


The Ones You Least Suspect

by nu-exo (Nekohime)



Series: am I more than you bargained for? [1]
Category: NCT (Band), NCT 127 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Doyoung is a hunter, Johnny is a warlock, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, questionable morals, the gore is really minor I just wanted to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekohime/pseuds/nu-exo
Summary: Doyoung didn't rat on all the illegal magical paraphernalia Johnny had stashed away, and Johnny helped Doyoung on hunts whenever he needed.  A symbiotic relationship at it's finest.#S048





	The Ones You Least Suspect

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into 中文 available: [The Ones You Least Suspect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979151/chapters/57677884) by [taChere_tatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taChere_tatie/pseuds/taChere_tatie)
> 
> Haha, so this both got longer and took more time than I expected. I really enjoyed writing it though, so hopefully it'll be a fun read. Thank you so much to our lovely mod for running this fest and being so incredibly understanding, and thank you to the prompter for submitting this prompt!! I kind of took your base idea and ran with it like a child with scissors. Hopefully it turned out in a way you didn't expect but still enjoy!
> 
> Also, thank you to A for being a champ and quickly reading through this 24k mess in the eleventh hour. You're the best~~~~~

✬

  
  


Doyoung had been on edge all through class, his leg bouncing under the desk, pen twirling between his fingers. He could barely focus, something uncharacteristic enough that it had Ten snorting —  _ loudly _ — from the seat next to him.

“Hot date?” he whispered, eyes barely moving from the board in front of the room to shoot an amused glance at Doyoung.

Doyoung gave a small shake of his head, scribbling down a line of notes he’d have to decipher later. “No, a consultation meeting with Professor Seo.”

“Ahh,” Ten drawled. Doyoung frowned, not liking the tone of that little exclamation. It sounded far too much like Ten was having an epiphany. Never a good sign. “So it  _ is _ a hot date.”

Doyoung narrowed his eyes at his friend in mild irritation. “It’s really not.”

“You’re probably the only person in our school who would say that,” Ten huffed. “I still don’t understand how you managed to get  _ the hottest teacher on campus _ as your advisor and you don’t even appreciate it. Such a waste.”

“He’s the only professor here who specializes in the range of mythology and folklore I’m interested in for my thesis,” Doyoung sighed. It was a fact Ten already knew but still whined about every time Professor Seo and the frequency that Doyoung got to meet with him came up in conversation. “If you wanted to ogle him so badly you could’ve signed up for his American Myths course with me.”

“And wake up at eight in the morning on Mondays?” Ten scoffed, “No thank you.”

Doyoung shrugged, a small, amused smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Your loss, then.”

Ten slumped in his seat. “So, I guess we won’t be seeing you in the dining hall tonight.”

“Probably not, I want to go over some of the books he recommended me last week.”

Ten snorted. “Nerd.”

Doyoung smiled, immediately shoving his things into his bag as soon as their professor signaled the end of class.  _ Finally.  _

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who geeks out over linguistics theorems.” He plucked the pen he’d lent Ten from his fingers, throwing it into the depths of his backpack before swinging the whole thing over his shoulder. “I’ll probably be late tonight, have some studying I want to do. Don’t wait up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ten waved him off, gathering up his stuff at a much more leisurely pace. “Go, have fun talking about Big Foot and wendigos with your hot professor.”

Doyoung didn’t dignify that last jab with a response, already halfway to the door, too short on time to bother.

He could just get him back for it later. Maybe fill their fridge with nothing but fruit salad. _ _

  
  
  
  
  


Doyoung made it to the Humanities building in record time, only running once to catch a light. He took a deep, measured breath as he stepped inside, quickly brushing his hair into place and putting on his most winsome smile. It wouldn’t look suspicious per se, for a student to come in breathless and wind blown looking for a professor or staff member, but Doyoung never did and  _ that _ would make it odd. Doyoung needed his meetings with Johnny to be looked at with nothing more than a passing eye. Commonplace and expected, not thought about and eye-catching. 

That being said, once he reached Johnny’s office at the end of the hallway, right off the stairs on the third floor, he burst in without any preamble.

“I need help.”

“You couldn’t knock?” Johnny asked, not looking up from the papers he was grading.

Doyoung ignored him, letting the door close behind him as he walked further into his office. “I need a banishment spell.”

“What if I’d had a student in here?” Johnny mused.

“You never have students in at this hour because you lie about when your hours end,  _ Professor Seo _ .”  _ For me, _ Doyoung didn’t say and Johnny didn’t point out. “It’d be best if the spell is in Latin, but I think Greek or Hebrew might work.”

Johnny sighed, taking off his glasses, a pair of elegant, round, wire-frames that made him look like a prince or nobleman from a different era. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, finally looking over at Doyoung who was perusing his back corner bookshelf — the one with all of Johnny’s (illegal) grimoires and spell books from his criminal days that he wasn’t supposed to have anymore.

“Why,” he started, tone wary from experience, “do you need a banishment spell?”

“There’s a demon living in the basement of Wickers Hall,” Doyoung said, matter of fact. “Bragged about being a duke but didn’t let its name slip.” He frowned at the spine of a book that, if he was translating it correctly, was a compendium of contract sigils for some  _ very _ old gods. “Pretty sure its been eating people’s pets because it was trying to lay low, but it’s only a matter of time before it moves on to humans and turns into an even bigger fucking problem.”

“It’s eating...pets.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes, too used to the warlock’s amusement at the wrong things to find it off-putting. “The bigger the spell, the better.”

“Has anyone ever told you,” Johnny stood, coming to loom over Doyoung, using his extra height to grab a thick leather-bound book from one of the upper shelves, magic spiking briefly in the air, sharp and heavy, “that your appetite for destruction is more like us than the humans you’re protecting?”

Doyoung’s fists clenched at his sides, holding down the shiver threatening to race down his spine at Johnny’s proximity through sheer force of will. He turned, looking up into the warlock’s face, electing to ignore the shadow of a smirk curling at the ends of Johnny’s lips. It was, as Doyoung had come to learn, just his face, for the most part.

“I’m a fan of getting things done efficiently and in one shot,” Doyoung said primly. “No point in banishing the demon if it just pops up somewhere else like a game of Whack-a-Mole: Hell Edition.”

Johnny pursed his lips, considering, “Fair.” He opened the book he’d grabbed, flipping through yellowing pages with long, delicate fingers. “I’m not supposed to have anything that strong in terms of spellwork,” he started, ignoring Doyoung’s pointed glance at the entire section of books he wasn’t supposed to have, “but, this should do the trick.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes, shuffling closer with an exasperated huff when it was clear Johnny wasn’t about to let him hold the spellbook. He scanned the page, picking out the words that would give him trouble with pronunciation, and the runes he’d have to write out beforehand. 

He pulled out his phone. “Gonna need a picture to memorize this.”

“Nope.” Johnny plucked the phone out of his hands, holding it far out of Doyoung’s reach with his stupidly long arms and extra height. “This is a seven hundred year old spellbook.”

“And?”

“And it’s been accumulating magic in its pages for  _ seven hundred years _ . I’m eighty-five percent sure it’d fry your phone if you took a picture of it.”

Doyoung scoffed. “You can’t be serious, it’s a  _ picture _ .”

“Not happening.”

“Wha- you know what, fine. Eighty-five percent is a risk I’m willing to take. I  _ need _ this spell.”

Now Johnny raised the book up, holding that out of Doyoung’s reach, too. “No.”

“I’m not above kicking you to get it,” Doyoung warned with a glare.

Johnny smiled benignly down at him. “And I’m not above hexing you.”

_ This giant fucker- _

Doyoung breathed in slow and deep, teeth set, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He did actually have homework to do and papers to write, let alone the quizzes he still had to grade for the class he was TAing for. He didn’t have time for this shit.

He exhaled in a hiss. “What do you want?”

Johnny beamed. “To go with.”

And didn’t that sound like an awful plan. A punished warlock and a duke of hell in the same room? A recipe for the worst kind of disaster.

“I just want to help.”

_ Who? _ Doyoung almost asked, the barb on the tip of his tongue, just barely managing to keep it in. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he said instead.

“The spell will work better if I’m the one who casts it,” Johnny reasoned, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout that had no place on a full grown man’s face and yet somehow  _ still fucking worked _ .

Doyoung narrowed his eyes up at the warlock, frustrated at the fact that he already knew he’d be giving in. “You just want to see what a duke of hell looks like, don’t you?”

Johnny’s smile turned impossibly sunnier, pout gone in a flash. “I’ve come across a few low level demons before. I’ve always wondered what one with any sort of strength would look like.”

“It’s in the body of an undergrad, you’re not gonna see much,” Doyoung deadpanned.

“You want the spell, that’s my price.”

Johnny had gotten significantly more bold since the first time Doyoung met him, back when he’d been a freshman in undergrad having to deal with monster hunting on his own. Significantly friendlier, too, the days of judging glowers and insulting once-overs a thing of the past ever since Doyoung told him he didn’t give a shit if he’d slipped the sealing spell placed on him, so long as he was helpful and didn’t  _ add _ to Doyoung’s ever growing list of problems.

Doyoung sighed, too tired to actually put up a fight. He’d just have to hope that Johnny behaved.

“Fine. The basement of Wickers Hall, tonight at 3 a.m.” Johnny opened his mouth, about to say something when Doyoung cut him off with a sharp look and a raised finger. “Don’t you dare say it’ll technically be tomorrow morning.”

Johnny wilted, pouting again. “Anyone ever tell you that you kill fun. Just straight up murder it.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes, satisfied in having (sort of) acquired what he came here for, ready to head back to his apartment to gather his gear, eat something, maybe do a little homework, and then change. If there was going to be any fighting involved later that night, he wasn’t about to sacrifice his nice clothes to the cause.

“Be on time,” he said, turning to leave. “And don’t let anyone see you this time!”

“Not like they’d remember it anyway,” Johnny laughed, as if the near miss of running into a group of his students while covered in weird, purplish wendigo blood, and then casting a memory spell on them wasn’t a big deal.

Doyoung made a noise of distress high in his throat, and then another when Johnny laughed even louder, thoroughly amused.

“Relax, I’ll be there. No one will see me. Now, go and pretend to be a normal student.”

  
  
  
  


Doyoung didn’t relax.

  
  
  
  


At the end of the day (night? Morning? Doyoung was so tired and done with everything he didn’t even care anymore) Johnny showed up on time, ancient spellbook in hand. The demon showed up too, thankfully. It didn’t realize how thoroughly it’d been caught in a Devil’s Trap (courtesy of Doyoung) or how thoroughly it was fucked (courtesy of Johnny, “Resident warlock extraordinaire, at your service.”) and tried to threaten them both before it finally noticed that it couldn’t move.

Doyoung forced it out of the poor freshman it’d possessed, and then, after seeing it’s form and hearing it howl that, “This isn’t how the 115th Duke of Hell should be treated!”, Johnny banished it.

It exploded, black gunk going everywhere, because of course, why the fuck not. Doyoung let out a controlled breath, reminding himself he still had to figure out how to put the freshman back where he belonged. Johnny, next to him, grimaced, whining about his ruined shirt.

“Was the duke everything you’d hoped it’d be?” Doyoung grunted, hefting the freshman (Jisung Park, according to his student ID) higher on his back as they made their way through the freshman quad.

“No,” Johnny mumbled, petulant and disappointed, kicking at pebbles like the child he really was.

Doyoung snorted, petty satisfaction putting a small spring in his step. “Good.”

  
  


✬✬

  
  


Johnny walked up to where Doyoung was sitting, took one look at his face, and immediately burst out laughing.

“Fuck you,” Doyoung muttered sipping at his hot chocolate with a vengeance. 

Johnny dropped into his seat, wiping imaginary tears, and just  _ smiled _ . Like a jackal about to corner its prey. 

“So.” Doyoung glared. Johnny’s smile was so fucking perfect and smug. Doyoung wanted to punch it right off his stupid face. “Pixies?”

“No,” Doyoung grumbled. 

“You sure?” Johnny slid his chair in closer to the table, bumping their knees together because his legs were so goddamn long. He propped his forearms on the tabletop, leaning closer, breath  _ just _ puffing across Doyoung’s skin. “Because those scratches sure look like pixies.”

Doyoung shoved him back with a hand to his face, a low disgruntled noise starting in his chest. They were in public and the idiot was  _ too close _ . “A friend’s cat did this.”

“Sure,” Johnny drawled, not even bothering to try and curb his amusement. “I’m surprised pixies even came this far into the city, they hate all the iron and pollution.”

_ That’s what I thought too _ , Doyoung mentally whined. “I said it wasn’t pixies.”

Johnny reached over, sliding Doyoung’s hot chocolate to his side of the table, ignoring the offended sound the human made. “Hypothetically speaking, then, what happened for you to end up in a fight with pixies?”

“That doesn’t sound hypothetical at all,” Doyoung pointed out. “And if you drink that you’re buying me a new one.”

“Of course,” Johnny easily acquiesced, taking a long sip, looking unfairly picturesque with the mug and his soft, dark gray turtleneck coupled with his too-long fringe partially hanging in his face.  _ So annoying _ . 

He stared at Doyoung, eyes calm and just a bit sleepy. Perfectly unassuming. 

Doyoung blew out a puff of air, his bangs fluttering. “Fine.  _ Hypothetically speaking _ ,  _ if _ these scratches were caused by pixies, it’d be because I was trying to help someone stupid enough to upset those little grudge holding gremlins in the first place.”

“Mm,” Johnny nodded, serene smile on his face. “I’ve heard they can be mean little fuckers.”

“The worst.” Doyoung blinked. “Hypothetically.”

Johnny snorted, head dropping to hide his expression before he raised it again to fix Doyoung with a look of fond exasperation. “Surprised you were willing to reveal your big monster fighting secret to someone. Who’s the lucky guy or gal?”

“Fuck you,” Doyoung said, kicking Johnny’s ankle under the table, “I’m helpful. I help people all the time.” 

“Sure,” the warlock consoled, tapping a foot gently against Doyoung’s — nice, black dress shoe against scuffed up converse. “So,” he tilted his head, smiling a smile that had an edge of something almost unfriendly to it, “Who was it?”

Doyoung eyed him, considering, an eyebrow slowly inching its way up his forehead. “Are you...jealous?”

“Of a human you  _ hypothetically _ blew your cover for?” Johnny snorted, taking another sip of Doyoung’s hot chocolate. “Why would I be?”

Doyoung pressed his lips together, tamping down the laugh that wanted to bubble out. “You’re right. It’d be ridiculous to be jealous of a freshman.”

Johnny perked up at that, brows furrowing in interest. “The one that’d been possessed by that demon?”

Doyoung hummed, reaching over to reclaim his cup of hot chocolate, pouting at how little was left.

“ _ He _ got involved with pixies?” Johnny asked, mirth shining in his eyes, mood significantly brighter, two seconds away from laughing. “ _ How? _ ”

Because apparently the kid was a fucking magnet for the supernatural. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the danger prone freshie had  _ friends _ , each worse than the last, not an inkling of common sense or self-preservation among them.

Doyoung, for obvious reasons, refused to say any of that, though. That would involve admitting that he’d gotten run off by pixies. That would mean telling Johnny, the powerful warlock, that teeny tiny creatures had swarmed him and scratched him and sent him jumping out a fucking  _ window _ to get away.

“I told you,  _ it was a cat _ .”

Johnny opened his mouth in a perfect little ‘o’, bobbing his head in the world’s most exaggerated nod. Under the table, Doyoung stepped on his very nice shoes. Johnny gave Doyoung’s hand a pat, entirely unfazed. 

_ Big hands _ , a small voice in his head commented, as if that hadn’t been one of the first things Doyoung had noticed about Johnny back when they first met. As if it didn’t constantly haunt him still, how big Johnny was, even compared to Doyoung’s 5’ 10”. Doyoung aggressively shoved that little voice into a mental locker.  _ Shut up _ .

No point in a thought like that if you couldn’t immediately do something with it, anyway.

“Right,” Johnny said, pulling Doyoung back out of his thoughts. “My b’.”

Doyoung screwed up his mouth in a displeased moue. He tapped a nail against the porcelain of his mug. “You said you’d get me another.”

Johnny’s smile softened and Doyoung pretended the heat crawling up his neck was from irritation. He got up easily, fingers brushing against Doyoung’s as he grabbed the cup to leave it at the used dishes station. “Of course.”

Doyoung watched Johnny walk to the counter, observing the attention the taller man drew just by moving in the space. He had a gravitational pull in the confined space of the cafe, same as he did in his classes. Doyoung, privy to the knowledge of what Johnny was, knew that it was part physical attraction, part unconscious response to the magic Johnny naturally gave off. Doyoung wasn’t as affected by the magic, a mix of the broad strokes of black ink covering his body and the kernels of magic he carried in his own blood from some long dead ancestor. He could feel it, though, tugging gently at his mind, sliding over his skin gossamer light.

_ Of course _ , Doyoung thought, watching Johnny lean against the counter with a crooked, charming smile on his face as he flirted lightly with the girl manning the register,  _ He definitely likes to play it all up _ .

With a disapproving shake of his head, Doyoung reached down to rifle through the bag he’d brought with him, pulling out the text book he’d been reading through — it’s pages marked with a plethora of sticky notes — and the pad of paper he’d been taking notes on. The  _ actual _ reason he’d been meeting up with Johnny. School related, for once.

“One hot chocolate and a raspberry tart for the tired student and part-time monster hunter,” Johnny said when he came back, carefully carrying two drinks and two little plates. “Free of charge.”

“You drank my hot chocolate in the first place,” Doyoung huffed, accepting his drink and slice of cake with a small begrudging smile.

Johnny shrugged, settling back in his seat, getting comfortable, tangling their legs together in the cramped space under the table. “Would’ve gotten it for you anyway.”

Doyoung ducked his head, shoving a bite of cake into his mouth to keep Johnny from seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. Judging by the soft huff of a laugh Johnny let out, sliding his own slice of pie closer for Doyoung to try, it didn’t work.

“So,” Johnny rearranged some of the things on their table so he could easily flip through Doyoung’s textbook to the most recent post-it, “You don’t need my help then?”

Doyoung fixed him with an even, nonchalant look. A poker-face he’d had years of practice to perfect. “With corroborating and fleshing out some of the myths referenced in this Evolution of Monsters essay? Yes. With non-existent pixies? No.”

Johnny watched him with an equally cool gaze, expression unreadable before he pursed his lips and nodded. “Okie dokie then, sounds good to me.”

He doesn’t push the topic.

Doyoung accidentally reopens one of the deeper scratches as their outing goes on while absentmindedly trying to get at an itch. He ignores Johnny’s pointed glance when he hisses in surprise, the scratch throbbing dully.

When it got late, Doyoung’s stomach rumbling in complaint, Johnny suggests a restaurant, treating him to the biggest dinner the grad student has had in a while. Johnny, placing a casual hand on the small of Doyoung’s back, inconspicuous but also not supposed to be there, walks him back, after, to the apartment Doyoung shared with Ten and their third roommate, Kun.

The night ends with Johnny ruffling his hair and Doyoung swatting at him like an offended cat, watching a laughing Johnny walk back out onto the street, probably heading to one of the (again,  _ illegal _ ) infinity doors he had set up around the city.

  
  
  
  


“Okay,” Doyoung huffed, three days later, dragging Jisung Park and his chaos-bringing friends into Johnny’s apartment with a white-knuckled grip on the younger boy’s wrist. “I need help.”

“How did you get in?” Johnny called from whatever room he was in. “I thought you lost your ke-”

He stopped short mid-sentence, staring at Doyoung, the motley crew of freshman and sophomores he’d brought along, and then back at Doyoung again.

“Holy shit, it really is Professor Seo,” one of the boys whispered, loudly.

“Shut up, Chenle,” Jisung hissed.

Johnny, eyes darkening with something that looked a lot like anger, didn’t seem to hear them. In four quick strides he was in front of Doyoung, bringing his hands up to gently cup his face, turning it up to get a better look.

“I swiped your spare key after I couldn’t find mine,” Doyoung admitted, answering the warlock’s earlier question, wincing lightly when Johnny’s thumb brushed over a particularly nasty gash.  _ Mean _ didn’t do pixies justice. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was meaning to tell you.”

“It’s fine,” Johnny mumbled, blowing lightly over a cut slicing through Doyoung’s cheek. He felt the familiar tingle of Johnny’s magic working as his skin startled to slowly stitch back together. “Shit, I’m gonna need a salve for some of these. What the fuck did you do to yourself?”

Doyoung bristled at that. “Excuse you, I didn’t do this to myself. Pixies did this because  _ these _ idiots,” he pointed an accusing finger at two of the five sophomores, “swatted some of them thinking they were bugs! And then, to top it off, tried to  _ spray them with bug spray _ .”

Johnny slid a moderately judging glance over to the small group of undergrads.

“In our defence, they look like fucking flies!” One of the boys sputtered.

“Language,” another chided in a tired deadpan, at the same time that a third snapped out a sharp, “Shut up, Hyuck, you’re not helping.”

Johnny quirked a brow, a flash of exasperation tugging the corners of his lips down, before turning back to Doyoung, settling the full weight of his dark, dark eyes on him. Sometimes, Doyoung forgot that while Johnny tolerated humans and was often fascinated by them, he didn’t necessarily  _ like _ them.

“They always go for the face,” he muttered, tracing his fingertips over the cuts and scrapes littering Doyoung’s skin, feather light and oh-so-gentle. “Why couldn’t you just ask for help?”

“Getting mauled by pixies is embarrassing enough,” Doyoung  _ didn’t _ whine. “I thought I could handle it. I’ve taken on bigger by myself before I ever even met you.”

“So stubborn,” Johnny cooed, leaning down to press a magic infused kiss to Doyoung’s forehead, ignoring the human’s squawk of indignance and the hands shoving at his chest. “So prideful. My little hunter.”

Doyoung flushed an angry red, glaring even as he felt the rest of his injuries close up. “You-”

“I’ll patch up your little friends,” Johnny interrupted, brushing back Doyoung’s fringe, turning his head less gently to make sure he’d gotten everything, “and then you’re going to show me where the pixies have set up camp, and I’m going to get rid of them. Okay?” He squished Doyoung’s cheeks, nodding his head for him with the grip he had on his chin. “Okay.”

Doyoung stumbled back, blinking, when Johnny finally let go. “Are you actually mad?”

But Johnny was already rounding on the undergrads, fear flashing across their faces.

_ Oh for the love of _ …

“Be nice. It’s not their- well, it’s not entirely their fault.” When the warlock didn’t stop, magic coming off of him in purposely menacing waves, Doyoung tried again, biting out a firm, “Johnny.”

Johnny sighed, a petulant sound. “Fine.” He snapped his fingers, a sharp sound that rang louder than it reasonably should’ve. All seven boys yelped, their scratches and cuts healed with the efficiency of a band-aid being ripped off. Johnny turned to Doyoung, sunny smile curling at his lips. “There. Happy?”

Doyoung resisted the urge to roll his eyes, conscious of the younger boys watching them with rapt attention.

“Play nice,  _ please _ .”

“Of course,” Johnny waved him off. “Now, where are the pixies?”

“Wait,” Doyoung frowned. “You meant  _ tonight _ ? You want to take care of them  _ tonight _ ?”

“No time like the present,” Johnny said, grabbing a coat off his wall-hanger.

“It’s- we all have class tomorrow.  _ You _ have a lecture tomorrow.” Doyoung was, truthfully, tired, and not looking forward to round three with the wild swarm of pixies.

Johnny gave him an amused look that said he knew exactly what Doyoung’s issue with going now was. Exhaustion, and the fact that pixies, unlike demons, wendigos, wraiths, or any other variety of blood loving creature, weren’t actually a threat. Unless you did something to piss them off, obviously. All in all, a low priority compared to sleep.

“C’mon, hunter. Let’s go fix your pest problem.”

  
  
  
  
  


It was frankly embarrassing how easily Johnny dealt with the pixies. Embarrassing and frightening and kind of a turn on. Doyoung would never admit that, though. The warlock didn’t need the ego boost.

Johnny followed Doyoung as he led their little group to the wild, unkempt patch of grass and weeds that constituted Burrows green, the location of the pixies’ nest.

The pixies never stood a chance.

Doyoung had just been planning on getting them to give up and move to another spot, which is why he’d ended up with so many injuries. He’d been trying to talk to them, reason with them. Johnny...Johnny didn’t bother. A word of power slipped past his lips, barely more than a whisper, and suddenly the pixies were on fire. Their screams were horrible, the curses they were slinging at Johnny were worse. Fae magic was to be feared, the spells they cast spanned generations. Johnny barely batted an eye.

Once the creatures were burned to ash, nothing left besides the smell of scorched earth, Johnny stomped his foot, the nearby plants bending and weaving to make a wicker chair, and then he sat. Waiting.

Doyoung, realizing what he was waiting for, turned to the boys shivering behind him. “Go back to your dorms. Get some sleep.”  _ If you can. _

They stared at him with wide eyes, sparing quick, nervous glances towards Johnny, who’d been nothing more than a teacher to them that morning, clearly seeing him in a much different light. One of them nodded, a boy with dark hair and round glasses perched on his nose. Doyoung was relatively sure he was the oldest of the bunch.

“Thanks,” he said, voice cracking, eyes unable to keep from flicking towards the warlock. He had a hand clasped tight around one of the boys Doyoung actually knew the name of, from the class he TA’d for, Jeno Lee looking much younger cowering in a hoodie and hastily thrown on jacket than he did in the classroom. “We’ll, uh, see you around then.”

Doyoung gave him a small nod and what he hoped was an apologetic smile, but was likely more of a grimace.

He gave Doyoung a weak smile in return, then turned, pulling Jeno along with him, who tugged one of the others along, until they’d all disappeared back down the hill.

Doyoung let out a slow breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, then moved to stand by Johnny, the hum of hundreds of little wings flapping vibrating with growing intensity against his ears. He couldn’t offer much help, but he  _ could _ stand by the warlock while he cleaned up Doyoung’s inherited mess.

“Do I scare you?” Johnny asked, tone plain and simple. Honest. Curious.

Doyoung squinted as the first of the pixie hoard came into view, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. He mulled over Johnny’s question, thought about the calm he felt standing next to the warlock, even knowing —  _ seeing _ — the power Johnny could wield, the destruction he could cause, knowing that it was just a fraction of the whole. He shook his head.

“No, not really.” And he just knew Johnny was smiling as he said, “Not as much as you should.”

  
  


✬✬✬

  
  


“What do your friends think you’re doing with all this time you spend with me?” Johnny asked, voice echoing off the tunnel walls they were currently skulking through.

“Studying, working on my thesis, getting life advice,” Doyoung paused, squinting at a set of marks carved into the wall near them —  _ Scratches? Or poorly done runes? _ — “You know, academic stuff.”

Johnny snorted, the sound bouncing off the walls around them, too loud considering they were  _ trying _ to be stealthy, hunting a pack of ghouls that had decided to set up camp under the city. Well,  _ Doyoung _ was trying to be stealthy. Johnny didn’t seem particularly concerned either way. Not that he had to be.  _ He _ wasn’t as susceptible to sharp, pointy teeth and razor-like claws.

_ Not much for a thousand year old warlock to fear, _ Doyoung mused dryly to himself, unwilling to voice those thoughts out-loud in case they got taken as a compliment.  _ Must be nice. _

“They believe you when you say that?”

“Hm?”

“Your excuses. They believe them?”

Doyoung cast a look over his shoulder that would’ve made a lesser man wither. “I graduated from my undergrad program as valedictorian and I’m in the top percentile of just about all of my classes now. Why wouldn’t they believe me?”

“Because it’s ten at night and we’re sneaking around in some abandoned tunnel that doesn’t exist on any map,” Johnny said, amusement and hints of disbelief clear in his tone. “Because we spend too much time together even with me being your advisor. Because you almost never spend your nights in your apartment.” He laughed, carefree and loud. “Take your pick.”

Doyoung shrugged. “The only thing they don’t get is how I’m not constantly drooling over you.”

He could feel Johnny’s eyes burning against the back of his head, something lighter than a leer but more demanding than a simple stare. Almost possessive in its persistence.

“Is that so,” he hummed, voice coming closer. “And they believe you when you say  _ that? _ ”

Johnny’s breath ghosted over the shell of Doyoung’s ear, the warmth he always radiated seeping through Doyoung’s jacket and pushing away the cold damp of the tunnels. Doyoung, trained since birth to sense someone’s approach and just used to the warlock’s tendencies in general, didn’t even flinch at the sudden proximity.

He tilted his chin up, giving Johnny a side-eye that was all cool challenge. “Haven’t given them a reason not to.”

  
  
  
  
  


They find the ghouls, and, to no one’s surprise, things get messy fast.

It doesn’t help that Johnny fights too close the entire time, brushing against Doyoung just enough to be noticeable — to be intentional — but not enough to interfere. Like a game.

Fingers trailing along his waist or up his back, letting Doyoung know he was there. A large hand splayed across Doyoung’s stomach to push him out of the way when a ghoul lunged, mouth open and slick with gray saliva. An ankle hooked around his own, pressing their thighs together, warm through their pants, to swing Doyoung around so Johnny could slam a dagger into another ghoul’s head.

Doyoung, relatively unscathed, was red in the face and  _ bothered _ by the time he took down the last ghoul with a sharp wrench of its arm and a blade to the base of its skull, feeling too hot for the level of exertion. Too hot for winter, and  _ definitely _ too hot for winter in a subterranean tunnel.

Doyoung wiped his knife — a pretty thing with a smooth, wooden handle and a partially serrated edge — on his jeans, the pair already ruined and destined for the trash anyways. He chanced a glance in Johnny’s direction while yanking one of his boot knives from a ghoul’s corpse, just in time to catch the warlock bringing his heel down on an already dead ghoul’s head. He had a cold, indifferent set to his eyes as he regarded the creature, covered in the inky gore characteristic of ghouls and their kin.

Doyoung had blood and bits of brain matter on him, too, seeping through his shirt and jeans, sticking his fringe to his forehead, but Johnny...Johnny was practically soaked through, thick globs splattered across his chest and arms, not seeming to even care (though Doyoung was sure he would later). 

He got it, really, he did. This type of fighting, ultimately, was beneath someone of Johnny’s caliber. It was the type of thing humans did because they  _ had _ to. Because, while creatures of the supernatural variety could strike up tenuous agreements amongst themselves, humans were either on the blacklist or the menu. Usually by their own stupidity and destruction, but, still, the sentiment stood.

Johnny couldn’t exactly throw his magic around either, even if he wanted to. On a leash with some leeway, but a leash nonetheless, the thick black bands tattoed onto his wrists a constant reminder of that.

“I wouldn’t tell,” Doyoung said, voice low but carrying, cutting through the sounds of their breathing and water dripping in the distance. “You could- you don’t have to- I wouldn’t tell.”

Johnny was looking at him, expression unreadable, hair hanging in his face. So different from the playful touches while they’d been fighting. His eyes were glowing, ever so slightly, a hint of bloodlust mixed with magic and something else. Something Doyoung couldn’t quite name but that had a shiver working its way down his spine all the same.

Slowly, a small, crooked smile twitched at Johnny’s lips. It didn’t soften the image he painted, standing tall and imposing, tendrils of magic flicking off him, covered in rotted blood, but it eased a tension that had been building in Doyoung’s gut. A worry that reared its head whenever Johnny came to help him on jobs like these.

“I know.” Johnny started towards him, easily stepping around the bodies on the floor which were quickly turning to black sludge. His steps echoed, the click of his dress shoes — because he was a stubborn idiot who insisted on wearing _nice_ _shoes_ to a _fight_ — crisp in what was otherwise silence. He stopped in front of Doyoung, tucking his hands in his pockets, head tilting and smile growing. Finally reaching his eyes. “You love me too much to do that.”

_ And he’s back _ .

“Fuck you.”

Johnny’s eyes  _ twinkled _ . “According to what your friends think, you would never.”

  
  


✬✬✬✬

  
  


Doyoung was sitting amongst a pile of Johnny’s old spell books in his office while the man in question graded papers, when there was a knock on the door, timid and unsure.

Johnny looked up at it with a frown, then down at Doyoung who’d started untangling himself to stand.

“It’s Jeno,” he said, by way of explanation.

“...Who?”

Doyoung snorted. “One of the sophomores involved in the Pixie Incident.”

Johnny made a noise of recognition before his brows drew together again in confusion. “Why is he here, though?”

“Don’t know,” Doyoung shrugged. “He messaged saying he had to tell me something urgent, so I told him I was here.”

“I- there are a few questions I have regarding everything you just said, starting with, you’re on messaging basis with one of those troublemakers?”

Doyoung outright laughed at that, tossing a smirk over his shoulder as he reached for the door. “I’m on a messaging basis with all of them. Why, jealous?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes playfully. “Why would I be when our relationship is so much deeper than that,  _ baby _ .”

Of course, this was said just as Doyoung opened the door to let Jeno — and apparently Donghyuck and Jaemin — in.

“ _ Baby? _ ” Donghyuck and Jaemin both gasped, matching grins that spelled nothing but trouble spreading across their faces.

Jeno sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Doyoung, fire quickly spreading up his neck, let out a strangled sound that started in his chest and made it to his throat before he nearly choked on it, ending with him almost coughing his lungs out.

Johnny smiled happily at the whole scene unfolding, like the cat that got the cream. Satisfied with the chaos he’d put into motion.

“ _ No _ ,” Doyoung wheezed, glaring at Johnny, daring him to try that again, “Not  _ ‘baby _ ’. ‘Baby’  _ nothing _ .”

Johnny was unfazed. Jaemin and Donghyuck were smirking in ways that said they didn’t believe him. Jeno...well, Jeno looked like he was regretting his life decisions.

Johnny held up his hands in surrender, all for show since he didn’t  _ look _ very sorry. “Oops.”

Doyoung was going to kill him.

“Um,” Jeno cleared his throat, drawing attention back onto him before Doyoung could do something frowned upon, like, say, commit murder. “Sorry, I know it’s late, but we kind of saw a thing and didn’t know who else to go to.”

“A thing?” Doyoung asked at the same time that Johnny huffed out a dry, “ _ Lovely _ .”

Jeno winced. “Yeah, it kind of, well, it sort of-”

“It looked like a ghost,” Donghyuck cut in, excitement shining on his face, bright and youthful.

“We took pictures,” Jaemin added, nudging Jeno who fumbled for his phone with a small,  _ “Oh, right!” _

“Here.” Jeno turned his phone for Doyoung to see. “Mark took a video, too. It’s in our messages, I can pull it up.”

Doyoung squinted at the phone screen, sceptical. He’d dealt with a few ghosts, a handful of poltergeists, but he’d never seen any of them actually appear on camera. They were incorporeal. That didn’t generally go well with modern tech.

“Looks like a grainy picture of a big kitchen,” Johnny commented, hovering over Doyoung’s shoulder.

“When did you- stop that,” Doyoung reprimanded, elbowing the warlock back. “But yeah,” he turned back to the trio, “I don’t really see anything there. Sorry, Jeno.”

Jeno made a small sound of disappointment, bottom lip coming out in a sad pout. Donghyuck and Jaemin, on the other hand, and to no one’s surprise, weren’t so easily dissuaded.

“It’s there.” Donghyuck jabbed a finger at what looked to Doyoung like a hanging pot. “See?”

Doyoung pressed his lips in a line, “Well-”

“Nope.” Johnny crossed his arms over his chest. “Got anything better than that?”

“The video,” Jaemin hissed, nudging Jeno with his elbow.

Jeno nodded, stepping closer to toggle through his apps for his messages. Doyoung got a glimpse of the contact name ‘Marky Mark  ♥ ’ as he opened his texts, before Jeno panicked and snatched the phone away.

“Hah, I’ll just…” he waved his phone, laughing nervously, ears turning red. Jaemin and Donghyuck shared an equally exasperated look, rolling their eyes. Doyoung tried not to snort. Johnny didn’t bother, chuckling under his breath. “Just need a sec, sorry.” When he found what he’d been looking for he handed the phone back. “Here you go.”

Doyoung swallowed down his mirth as best he could, looking down at the phone screen and pressing play.

The video wasn’t much better, but the sudden burst of interference followed by a loud crash off-screen, was definitely interesting. Things that had been stacked could slip and fall, but iPhones didn’t glitch like that.

“Okay. I’m curious.”

The three boys shared excited smiles, slapping each other’s shoulders.

“So you’ll do something about it?” Jeno asked.

“Can we help?” Jaemin added, grin stretching.

“We found it so we should get to,” Donghyuck said, voice grave.

“I said  _ curious _ ,” Doyoung emphasized. “That doesn’t actually mean it’s a ghost. And even if it is, I’m not taking three undergrads with me to break into a dining hall after hours.”

“You’re going to break into the dining hall?”

Doyoung sighed. It was worrisome how excited Jaemin and Donghyuck looked at the prospect of breaking and entering.

“Yeah, okay, I can’t deal with this right now.” Doyoung shooed the three boys out. Jeno made a little noise of protest, frowning. Doyoung, sensing the argument oncoming, cut him off. “Send me the videos and I’ll look into it. Scope the dining hall out.”

“Will you really?” Jeno and Jaemin asked — Jeno’s tone hopeful to Jaemin’s skepticism.

“Yes, yes,” Doyoung assured them, herding them towards the door. “Just not right now.”

“Shouldn’t you be  _ on _ this?” Donghyuck demanded, eyes narrowed, trying his best to glare at Doyoung over his shoulder.

“I  _ am _ .” Doyoung pushed them over the threshold. “Just not. Tonight.”

“But-”

“You don’t even know which dining hall it is!”

“That looks like the kitchen for Rogers,” Johnny said, tone mild, speaking up for the first time in a while. The three undergrads turned their gazes up to him, blinking like they’d managed to forget he was there. “Am I right? It’s the oldest dining hall on campus after all.”

“How- you-”

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Doyoung sighed. Johnny had probably eaten there when he was a student, back in the early years of the college’s formation, during one of his forays into a ‘human lifestyle’. ( _ “Good times, good times. _ ”) He couldn’t exactly explain that, though. It’d raise so many other questions, all of which would take time and effort to explain. “Now,” he said, using the tone he reserved for his five year old nephew, smiling as he bodily blocked the doorway, “Go back to your dorms. Sleep. Study. If I need anything, I’ll text you.”

“Wha- but we can help,” Donghyuck said, stomping his foot.

“Yeah,” the other two chorused, nodding.

“Oh? So that you can get possessed like Jisung did and leave me to explain why you’re eating people’s cats and speaking in tongues?” Doyoung asked, still smiling the same smile. “I think the fuck not. Have a good night now.”

And with that he slammed the door shut, muffling the protests that followed. He waited, listening quietly until the three sophomores finally stopped complaining about how unfair he was being and walked away, their footsteps receding into the distance.

“What do you think?” Doyoung asked, turning to look at Johnny, leaning back against the cool wood of the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

Johnny shrugged. “Probably the same thing you are.”

Doyoung thunked his head back. “I  _ am _ curious, though. And I’d feel bad not looking into it.”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Johnny snickered, taking up his seat at his desk again.

Doyoung pressed his eyes closed, sighing through his nose, a headache building at the base of his skull. “I swear, whoever taught you how to speak like that…”

“I’m a man of the modern age,” the warlock teased, plucking up his glasses from where they were hanging around his neck on a thin silver chain.

_ Mm _ , Doyoung absently thought, tracing over the lines of Johnny’s face and the glint of the dainty silver frames perched on the slope of his nose,  _ Nice _ .

“I’ll just think about it more tomorrow, when I don’t have a paper outline due,” Doyoung decided with a nod to himself, walking over to the nest he’d created out of books and notes on the floor. Once he’d settled, legs folded under him and highlighter twirling between his fingers, he tilted his head back to look up at Johnny. “Think we can order in tonight when we head back to your apartment?”

Johnny glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “How late are you planning to stay up and why are you assuming it’ll be at my place?”

Doyoung batted his eyes, leaning back, holding onto his ankles so he could rock forward. He was in sweats and one of Johnny’s ridiculous tourist spot hoodies. He’d been too tired to dress in anything that wasn’t warm and comfy when he’d left his apartment this morning, but now his lazy decision was proving handy. Johnny was weak to soft, especially when it came to Doyoung, who, in his words, was usually, “All sharp lines and hard edges”.

“Are you saying that you’re going to kick me out?”

“You have your own home to go back to. With friends also doing last minute work, I’m sure.”

And that was part of the problem. Ten had a project he was procrastinating finishing and Kun was in a caffeinated research sprint. Doyoung’s apartment was essentially an academic mine field, which was fine on Fridays or the weekends, when mutual procrastination was encouraged, but dangerously unproductive for the average weekday.

Doyoung pursed his lips into a pout, feeling ridiculous, just desperate enough for quiet company and good food to let go of all shame.

He saw the moment Johnny broke — as if the older man was actually going to say no in the first place. Johnny let his head fall forward onto his desk with a muffled thump, his piles of papers softening the landing.

“What if I had plans later? What if I was going to meet up with someone?”

Doyoung tried to bite back his grin, humoring him. “Are you?”

Johnny let out a sigh of the long-suffering variety, the type he tended to use only in Doyoung’s company. He turned his head to look at him, papers rustling and crinkling with the movement. A lock of hair got itself caught behind his glasses, twitching when Johnny blinked.

Doyoung’s hands fidgeted in his lap, both from the impulse to fix Johnny’s hair and the heavy-lidded stare being directed at him.

“No,” Johnny answered, small cat-like grin curling at the ends of his lips. “You’re the only person I meet up with, anyway.”

Doyoung’s face was  _ on fire _ . Johnny, having gotten the reaction he wanted, kindly didn’t point it out.

  
  
  


“I’ll think about it tomorrow”, turned into, “I’ll think about it next week”, very quickly. It wasn’t intentional. Things being moved and occasionally knocked over just hadn’t been a priority in the face of impending deadlines. Jeno, sulking across from him in Doyoung’s favorite on-campus cafe, seemed to think otherwise.

“What do you want?” Doyoung huffed, refusing to be cowed by someone four years younger than him. “I have coursework too. I’m literally trying to finish a master’s degree here.”

“I thought this was your  _ job _ though,” Jeno whined. He sipped petulantly at the hot chocolate Doyoung had bought him. “I thought you were  _ supposed _ to protect people from supernatural shit.”

Doyoung resisted the urge to just throw his hands up in the air and whine right back the way he wanted to — the way he would if it were Ten, Kun, or even Johnny. “Yes, but I’m a student too. I can’t constantly be dropping everything to investigate every little bump in the night. That’s not how it works.” Jeno raised a slow eyebrow. Doyoung sighed. “So it’s sort of how it works. Doesn’t mean it’s how I should be doing things.”

Jeno looked down at his empty plate, moving around the crumbs of the pastry he’d eaten with the twines of his fork. “Fine, fine, I know, I just thought…”

“Just thought?”

“That we’d brought you something. Something that we didn’t cause for once,” Jeno shrugged, sipped at his drink, “Something we could maybe help you with?”

Doyoung sighed through his nose.  _ So that’s what this all comes back to. _

“Jeno,” Doyoung started, voice gentle, coaxing the younger boy to look up, “What I do is dangerous.”

“Exactly! And you’re doing it by yourself!” Jeno argued. “We could  _ help _ .”

Another sigh, sharper this time, because they’d had this conversation multiple times already since the Pixie Incident.

Doyoung shot a quick, discreet glance around the cafe, making sure he didn’t recognize anyone there before placing one of his arms on the table and rolling up his sleeve to his forearm. It left the edges of his tattoo on display, black ink thick and curling, stark against his skin. 

“I got these when I was eighteen, right before starting college,” Doyoung said. “Everyone in my family who lives that long gets them. They mean I survived five years shadowing someone else’s hunt and was able to successfully lead my own. I’m proud of them, but they were earned with more scars than I’d like to admit and a lot of pain. It’s not something I want you to ever have to experience. Not when you can live a normal life.”

“But we’ve already been exposed to the supernatural side of things,” Jeno tried again, voice taking a more frustrated edge. “Jisung got  _ possessed _ . We almost got  _ mauled _ by a swarm of  _ pixies _ .”

“First of all,” Doyoung pressed his lips into a disapproving line, “lower your voice. Second of all, that’s not the same as  _ seeking it out on purpose _ . Shit happens. That’s why families like mine exist.”

“What about Professor Seo, then?” Jeno asked, changing tactics. “Why does he get to help?”

“Johnny,” Doyoung licked his lips, ruffling his hair. “Johnny is different. He’s already part of this world.”

“So it’s not dangerous for him?” Jeno pushed.

Doyoung gave him a wry grin. “If anything it’s dangerous for everyone  _ but _ him. You saw what he did with the pixies.”

Jeno grimaced. “Yeah.” Doyoung snorted at that reaction. At least the kids didn’t seem scared of Johnny, although the warlock would probably get an absolute kick out of it if they were. “So you really won’t let us tag along?”

Doyoung gave Jeno a Look. One which had the younger boy wilting in his seat with a dejected  _ hmph _ .

“I need your word you and your little friends won’t try anything,” Doyoung warned.

“We’re not children,” Jeno grumbled. Doyoung’s raised eyebrow said he disagreed. Jeno sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I promise. We won’t try anything.”

  
  
  
  
  


Doyoung was never going to trust Jeno again. Ever. He had been  _ betrayed _ and he was going to  _ remember _ .

“ _ ‘I promise, we won’t try anything’ _ ,” Doyoung mocked as he trekked across their deserted campus at three in the morning, bleary-eyed and cold, bundled in the first scarf and jacket he could find in the dark amongst the collective pile in their apartment. “ _ ‘We’re not children’ _ .” Doyoung winced as a breeze cut through and he almost slipped on a patch of black ice. “What a fucking liar. I swear, when I get my hands on those little fools...”

He heard a faint buzz and fumbled for his phone in his pocket, the screen blinking with a text notification. With a string of muttered curses, Doyoung opened his texts, the first thing that greets him being the message that dragged him out of his warm bed at this godforsaken hour in the first place.

_ Heeyyy Doyoung, so I know you said not to stick our noses in this anymore buuuuut we stuck our noses in it some more...haha _

_ Think you could come help? _

_ We’re kind of locked in the freezer _

_ It’s really really cold and Lucas doesn’t have a sweater _

_ Doyoung? _

_ Doyoung??? _

_ Hyung???????? _

The last message had been sent in Korean with more emojis than Doyoung cared to count.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Doyoung was going to kill him. If the ghosts or whatever didn’t get to him first, Doyoung was going to  _ kill him _ . He jabbed a message out with chattering teeth that was supposed to read,  _ I’m on my fucking way _ , but because of the cold and autocorrect came out as,  _ m onm ducking wya _ . Doyoung spat out another curse. “Fuck you, phone.”

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, ducked his head down, and picked up his pace.

_ Why couldn’t I have saved a group of undergrads that actually fucking listen? _

  
  
  
  
  


Doyoung stared at the door to the dinning hall. It was hanging slightly ajar, which was foreboding — and also probably a sign of illegal entry — but what was worse was that he couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. No noises, no sounds of trapped sophomores calling for help. He pushed the door open just enough to slip past, swallowing down the slow creep of unease that was crawling up his throat. 

Somehow, it was even quieter inside. It made Doyoung’s breathing sound loud to his own ears. 

_ Fuck, if they actually got killed… _

One hand on the hilt of his knife and the other on his phone, Doyoung started to walk. He’d regretted walking out in sneakers the first three times he’d nearly slipped on ice during the walk over, but now he was thankful for it, able to take quiet, careful steps as he made his way around tables towards the kitchen area in the back. 

Doyoung pitied whoever was going to come in to clean and set up in the morning because the kitchen was a mini disaster zone. There were pans strewn across the floor. Multiple bags of flour had exploded in one corner and left the entire blast radius dusted with powder. Doyoung paused at an overturned metal cart that had somehow been  _ dented _ , poking at it with morbid curiosity before continuing towards the area with the giant walk-in freezer and ingredients closet all the way in the back. 

Nothing had happened so far. Nothing had attacked him. The kitchen was a mess but a lot of it could’ve been caused by panicking students that thought they’d seen something supernatural. Not that Doyoung didn’t believe Jeno. He did, mostly. It was just that, beyond the itch under his skin telling him something was off and the disarray he’d walked past, nothing had actually tried to come for him yet. There were no definitive signs of aggression. 

Doyoung stepped around a segment of shelves and stopped, freezer now in sight. 

_ Ah. There we go. Knives. _

Twelve of them, to be exact, all imbedded at least two inches into the sturdy metal of the freezer door. 

“Great,” Doyoung deadpanned, going through the exorcism prayers he knew in his head, fingers flexing over the handle of his blade. With his free hand he knocked on the heavy door, the sound loud like thunder in the otherwise deathly silence. “Jeno! You in there?”

No response. 

Doyoung frowned, banged on the door harder. “Jeno!”

He pressed his ear to the door, focused, and this time he could just make out what sounded like a muffled yelp before there was thudding from the other side. Doyoung closed his eyes in relief. 

So far so good. Jeno — and whoever else had gone along with this moronic plan — was still alive.

The next issue was getting them out. Doyoung tried the handle first, hoping that maybe it’d just been stuck from the inside. It didn’t budge. Not a good sign.

_ Okay, Plan B. _

Spinning on his heel, Doyoung turned to find something to pry the door open with. It took him a minute, but he eventually found something that looked sturdy enough to get a fair amount of leverage with.

“I’m gonna try and crank it open!” Doyoung shouted. There was a two knock affirmative on the other side of the door. Doyoung wedged the broken off leg of a table that he’d picked up under the handle.  _ Let’s hope this works _ . “On the count of three, push!”

Doyoung tightened his grip on the metal pole. “One!”

Something slid across the counter behind him and clattered to the floor. Doyoung grit his teeth.

“Two!”

A whisper of impossible wind slid over the back of his neck, the sound of metal groaning growing slowly around him.

Doyoung closed his eyes, took a deep breath. When he opened them again his eyes were focused on the reflection of the kitchen behind him, the flickers of movement.

“Three!”

  
  
  
  
  


A few things happened at once after that.

First, a large cleaver flew from across the room and sunk itself in the door right where Doyoung’s head had been two seconds prior. Doyoung, having ducked, turned and pressed his back up against the freezer.

The next thing to happen, was the freezer door suddenly flinging open. Doyoung, having been banking on all of this, braced himself for impact, taking the hit with a grunt. Someone yelped, the sound clear now that the door was open and they were free.

“Out! Now!”

The boys didn’t need to be told twice, thankfully, the last person running out just as the door — which Doyoung had been holding onto, whispering a basic strength spell Johnny had taught him a few years back over and over again — slammed shut.

With everyone finally free, the howling started, sending vibrations all the way down to their bones.

“Holy fuck,” a boy that had to be around Johnny’s height whimpered. “We’re all gonna die.”

Doyoung pushed himself onto his feet and stalked forward, shouldering his way to the front of the terrified little cluster that had formed. 

“We’re gonna make a break for the door.” He pulled out his knife, ignoring the strangled noise Renjun made behind him. “No matter what happens, you don’t stop until you’re outside.” He handed the knife back to Mark, making sure he had a firm grip before letting go. “If anything...aggressive tries to stop you, just touching it with that blade should keep it back.”

“Anything aggressive,” Mark parroted, eyes wide but determined, his free hand curled around Jeno’s.

Doyoung grimaced. “You’ll know what I mean if it happens.”

“What about you?” the tall boy asked, worry clear on his face. “We can’t just leave you.”

“Lucas is right,” Jaemin agreed, raising his voice to be heard over the growing din around them. “We’re not running away.”

Doyoung turned enough to grab a fistful of Jaemin’s shirt, yanking the boy closer so they were eye-to-eye. He was still cold to the touch and shivering, though whether that was from their time in the freezer or from fear Doyoung couldn’t tell.

“You’re not running away. You’re escaping and letting me work. Understand?”

There was fire in Jaemin’s eyes, the sort that Doyoung honestly respected. Now wasn’t the time for it, though. There was something congealing in front of them and if they didn’t get out quick they’d be screwed.

So before Jaemin could open his mouth to argue, Doyoung shoved him forward, giving Mark a push next, shouting, “Go!”

They ran — some pulled along while casting worried glances back at Doyoung, others leading the charge.

The thing forming in the kitchen let out a grating growl, a guttural sound that was altogether unnatural. A fluid, semi-translucent appendage whipped out, aiming for the boys. Doyoung, expecting something like that, flicked out one of the two stilettos he’d tucked away for exactly this type of situation, and threw it with everything he had.

It sunk into the spectral limb with a loud squish that had a small wave of nausea building in his chest. The ghost — spectre, poltergeist,  _ thing _ , Doyoung didn’t actually know anymore —  _ roared _ .

_ Well _ , Doyoung thought, taking a step back to brace himself,  _ at least I know iron works on it. _

The walls were vibrating, now, all the metal resonating with each other. Doyoung had to fight against the urge to cover his ears, wincing through the sharp ringing that was steadily rising. He dropped into a crouch, dodging an entire rack of shelves — cutlery and all — by a hairs breadth. His vision was starting to swim, the pain in his head growing from the piercing noise, making it hard to breath.

He forced himself to run, vaulting over a counter with trained nimbleness, sliding behind one of the two large stoves to avoid a long reaching swipe, taking some flung food to his back and head in the process. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his breathing uneven. Whatever this spirit was it was dredging up fear, pulling it to the surface from where Doyoung always tucked it away on hunts.

A cart came flying overhead, food and all, the odd slick noise the entity made getting closer with its approach.

_ Think, think, think _ . Doyoung looked around, trying to find a route that would give him some cover.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _ The skin over his heart burned and he rubbed at it without thought. Hah, Johnny was going to resurrect him and then kill him all over again if he was stupid enough to die here.

Doyoung blinked, looked down at his chest. Oh, right.

_ “For a life or death scenario,” Johnny had said as he watched a friend of his, Yuta — a warlock he definitely wasn’t supposed to be in contact with — carefully move his tattoo gun across Doyoung’s skin. “Which knowing you is practically always, but if I’m not there, this should help.” _

The tattoo was designed to blend in with the ones already inked into Doyoung’s skin, recognizable only to a trained eye. Johnny said it was a piece of his family crest, edited to act as a small conduit for free floating magic and strengthened with the inclusion of a drop of Johnny’s blood in the ink itself.

Doyoung had appreciated the gesture even if he thought he’d never use it. Now, he could almost laugh.

_ He’s probably going to say ‘I told you so’ when he finds out _ , Doyoung mused with a faint smile. A limb slithered around the corner of his hiding place and he stabbed it with his second stiletto knife. It shrieked and slithered back.

_ “Pick a word and focus all your intentions behind it,” _ Johnny had said.  _ “Then, just let the magic help you.” _

Doyoung closed his eyes, tried to tamp down his adrenaline just enough to concentrate on the burn of his tattoo, the faint particles of magic ever present in the air around him. He breathed in. The spectre got closer, the metal he was leaning against creaking with the force it was exerting. He breathed out. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He opened his eyes.

_ Here goes nothing. _

“Repel.”

In truth, Doyoung hadn’t entirely expected the magic to respond to him. He was human, through and through, whatever traces of innate magic he had too small to be counted. The night was truly full of surprises, though, because it definitely worked. Maybe a bit too well.

In his head, Doyoung had just imagined the ghost being pushed back far enough for him to make a break for it.

What happened instead is  _ everything _ was blasted away, leaving Doyoung at the epicenter of the mini explosion.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, staring wide eyed at the way all the  _ very heavy _ appliances had been tossed like confetti. “Holy  _ fuck _ .”

The ghost groaned and chittered, having been thrown across the kitchen, all the way into the wall with a gross  _ splat _ .

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” Doyoung mumbled, hurrying to his feet, shaking away the way his head swam, sparks of magic darting around in his periphery and just under his skin.

He was moving with more speed than he naturally had as he ran for the door, scrambling up and over the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the dining hall with a little too much ease.

_ It’s the magic _ , his mind helpfully supplied as he lept up onto a table in one go, hop-scotching across them because it was the most direct path and he just  _ could _ . Landing in a roll that smoothly transitioned back into a final sprint for the door while the ghost slowly recovered behind him. If he felt like this from a short burst of borrowed power, he couldn’t imagine what Johnny felt like with this kind of power flowing through him all the time, what he felt like being cut off from using the bulk of it.

It was with that thought that he crashed through the outer doors, stumbling back into the freezing night air before turning quickly and slamming them shut again, letting the peaceful quiet of the outside surround him while he caught his breath.

“Close,” he panted out, squeezing his eyes shut and envisioning the doors sealing themselves so nothing could get out. As an after thought and with a quick glance up to the sky he adds, “Please.”

The edges of the door briefly glowed a soft yellow — the color of Johnny’s magic in its rawest form. And then it was gone, the burn of his tattoo easing into a dull ache, then a faint throb, before vanishing entirely as well.

Doyoung sighed through his nose, pressing his forehead to the cool metal of the door frame in front of him. Well. This was a problem.

  
  
  
  
  


Doyoung burst into Johnny’s home with little preamble, walking straight for where he knew Johnny kept his stash of weapons. He didn’t worry about waking him, knew the warlock would be up. Johnny slept far less than he should’ve if someone wasn’t there to make him.

“You look like you got in a fight with the produce section and lost,” Johnny commented mildly, bemused.

“Dining hall’s haunted.”

He blinked, watching Doyoung disappear from view. “What?” 

_ Blessed iron, salt rounds, iron jewelry to protect vital points from contact… _

He was still sitting on his couch, confused, when Doyoung came back out armed to the teeth with as many weapons as he could hide on his person.

“What?” He asked again.

“Dining hall’s haunted,” Doyoung repeated, cocking one of his guns and heading for the door.

“Wait wait wait.” Johnny stumbled up, nearly tripping over his slippers, eyes widening. “Where do you think you’re going with all of that?”

Doyoung gave him a scathing look that said very clearly he thought that was an exceptionally stupid question.

“Okay, okay,  _ why _ are you taking all of that? What exactly do you need an  _ arsenal _ for?”

“The thing haunting the dining hall,” Doyoung explained simply. “Gotta kill it. Pretty sure I pissed it off enough that it won’t disappear during the day anymore.”

“The thing,” Johnny said slowly, small frown forming. “You don’t know what it is?”

Doyoung scrunched his nose. “Thought it was a ghost? It’s probably closer to a poltergeist, though. Definitely aggressive enough for one.  _ Really _ solid, though.”

“I-” Johnny shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. “So the answer is yes, you don’t know what it is, but you’re still planning to go back at,” he looked down at his watch — a child’s Superman themed watch Doyoung had gifted him last year as a joke gift — squinting, “four-thirty in the morning?”

Well, when he put it that way, sure it sounded marginally crazy. 

“I’m gonna feel bad if it attacks whoever is on the morning shift tomorrow,” Doyoung reasoned, clicking the safety on the gun he was holding before bolstering it out of sight. “I grabbed some of the bullets with runes carved onto them as a contingency since magic seems to work on it.” Doyoung looked up at Johnny, expression serious as he gave him a firm nod. “I should be fine.”

Johnny made a strangled sound, lunging for Doyoung before he could walk out, hauling him back in by his hood. 

“No. No, no, no,  _ no _ . Don’t you dare. I’m the one who’s gonna get in trouble if you charge in there, guns blazing, and  _ die _ .” Johnny was glaring down at him. Doyoung’s traitorous mind thought it was an attractive look on the taller man. Pity it was being directed at him right now. “Are you listening to me?”

“You’re not my mom,” Doyoung retorted, sounding like a child and embracing it. He was tired and covered in the splattered remains of three day old produce. He was allowed to be petty.

“You’re  _ mom _ is the one who entrusted you to me.”

He had Doyoung there.

“Stay put,” Johnny ordered, tone and narrow-eyed expression brooking no room for argument. 

And then he walked away.

“Wha- where’re you going?” Doyoung shouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“To put on something a bit more respectable!” Johnny shouted right back.

Doyoung’s lips twitched, rising up into a somewhat reluctant half-smirk. “You mean pajama pants and a ratty old pikachu shirt aren’t respectable clothing?”

“Pokemon is timeless and you’re just jealous!” Then, grumbled at a slightly lower volume but still discernible, “The best fucking creation of the modern age.”

Doyoung snorted.

Johnny re-emerged from his room in jeans and a hoodie, looking young and very college kid. He grinned, teeth flashing.

“This way, if we get caught lurking by campus security they’ll just think we’re two students up to no good.”

“You’re a  _ teacher _ ,” Doyoung said, tone rising towards the end, unable to tamp down his initial reaction of distress even if he knew Johnny was (mostly) joking. “If we get caught, you’re wiping their memories and we’re running for it.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, closing the distance between them in three long strides (fucking show-off), shoving his feet into a pair of beat-up converse. Doyoung couldn’t help but give him a once over. Johnny really could pass for a college kid, or at the very least as another grad student like Doyoung, dressed like this.

Johnny smiled, catching Doyoung staring. “Like what you see? Should I dress like this more?”

It was Doyoung’s turn to roll his eyes, stomping towards the door, swinging it open with more force than necessary. “Go fuck yourself.”

Johnny’s laugh boomed out behind him. “So that’s a yes then?” Doyoung walked faster, complaining under his breath about dumb giants not acting their age. Johnny easily caught up, slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling Doyoung into his side. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he sing-songed.

Doyoung shot him an irritated glare that probably wasn’t nearly as effective as it should’ve been, considering he was loaded with various weapons and could easily take down a grown man even if he wasn’t.

“You’re gonna get sick walking in the cold without a jacket and I’m  _ not _ going to take care of you this time.”

Johnny let out a short bark of laughter that was far too loud for the time of night — morning, really, but Doyoung hadn’t gotten to sleep properly therefore it wasn’t allowed to be morning yet.

_ So fucking chipper. _

“I’m a powerful warlock,” he said, not an ounce of modesty anywhere to be heard. “A little bit of cold weather isn’t going to get me sick.”

Doyoung gave him a look, because apparently Mr. Powerful Warlock had forgotten what had caused him to get sick  _ last _ time.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

  
  
  
  
  


“You used the tattoo I gave you!” was the first thing Johnny said when they walked back into the dining hall about half an hour later, evidently sensing the remains of the barebones power Doyoung had managed to summon earlier. “You used magic!”

Doyoung rolled his eyes even as he felt his cheeks go warm at the clear pride in Johnny’s tone. “I didn’t use it. I just kind of...asked it for help?”

Johnny didn’t seem to hear him or care, though, because he was looking at him with the world’s dopiest smile and shining eyes.

“Oh for the love of-  _ focus _ ,” Doyoung hissed just as they crossed the threshold into the actual dining section of the building and everything started to hum, like the approach of a massive swarm of bees.

Johnny looked like he wanted to say something else anyway, utterly unphased by the growing noise, when his eyes shifted sharply towards the side, looking just over Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, back of his neck prickling, saw how Johnny’s expression had hardened and spun on his heel, drawing one of his guns and firing in a single fluid motion.

The tentacle-like arm that had been trying to sneak up on him withered as the iron bullets lodged in it, quickly retreating back to the main body. Wherever it was.

“Huh,” Johnny stared at where the limb had been. “Interesting.” Something crashed over by the kitchen. When they turned to look they were greeted by the sight of the spirit’s giant body moving over the serving station’s counter, making its way into the main area of the dining hall. “It looks like a slug.”

“Slugs don’t have tentacles,” Doyoung said through gritted teeth, taking aim and firing at any appendage that strayed too far out from the body. “They don’t phase between being corporeal and not, either.” He closed his finger around the trigger only for it to click, clip empty. “Shit.”

“That’s why it’s interesting.” Johnny tilted his head. “There’s an arm coming up on your left, by the way.”

“Fucker.” Doyoung drew the other gun he’d brought — this one engraved with a casting circle and loaded with bullets Johnny had infused with blasting spells — firing with a quick glance, the rounds exploding on impact. “Didn’t you come along to help?”

“I came along to make sure you don’t die,” Johnny pointed out. “Slight difference. Another tentacle coming in from the top.”

Doyoung shot it, two quick presses of the trigger, this time with iron rounds.

“Their going to have to do so many repairs to this place,” Johnny observed, calm as could be. 

As if the ghost slug wasn’t coming closer, cracking the plaster of the serving counter overhang instead of just phasing through, plopping completely onto the ground with shiver inducing squelch. 

_ Ew. _

“What an interesting form for a poltergeist to take,” he continued.

“How the fuck is that a poltergeist?” Doyoung bit out, aiming at the main body with his left hand while he shot at any approaching arms with his right.

Johnny shrugged in his periphery. “Poltergeists are still ghosts. Their original form can be warped by outside influence. In this case, to me, it feels like a ghost that’s been trapped by unresolved business and then corrupted by all the human emotion that walks through here on a daily basis.”

The poltergeist slunk forward, emitting a high frequency shriek as it advanced. Doyoung clenched his teeth, took aim, and kept firing, chipping away at its body only for it to immediately regenerate.

“Shit, shit,  _ shit _ , I’m not doing enough damage. Johnny.”

Johnny didn’t respond, staring at the poltergeist, expression placid.

“ _ Johnny _ .”

“Yes?”

Doyoung glared at him. “Really?”

“Hm?” He looked over at Doyoung, registered his ire, then said, “Oh. You want me to take care of it? I thought that’s what all those guns were for.”

Doyoung made a sound of pure frustration, a half-formed yell that stayed in his chest. He shot at two appendages aiming for Johnny, quick and brutal, the bullets zipping past the warlock’s face and glancing through his hair. Johnny barely flinched.

“Has anyone told you your aim is frighteningly good?”

“You’re insufferable.”

Johnny smiled like that was a compliment. He waved his hand, a lazy flick of his wrist in the general direction of the poltergeist, and an entire portion of the spirit was blasted away. 

“I hate that it’s literally that easy for you,” Doyoung griped. Something tried and failed to grab his ankle, repelled by the iron anklet he’d swiped while at Johnny’s. Doyoung shot it with a disgusted sneer.

“That’s pretty easy for you, too,” Johnny noted, turning more of his attention on the poltergeist since it was starting to recover. “This might take a while. It regenerates fast and I can’t pull up  _ that _ much power.”

The air was vibrating again — having stopped when Johnny had attacked. It was different this time, though. Johnny’s magic was building up around him, part of it shooting forward to blast a steady stream of holes in the poltergeist, keeping it where it was, while the rest seemed to be stockpiling.

It made it difficult for Doyoung to breathe, the way Johnny’s magic always did. Less from actually pressing on his lungs, and more from the way it seemed to want to curl into him, seep under his skin and make a home there.

He’d never say it — it’d be way too embarrassing and Johnny would never let it go — but the sheer level of warmth he always felt from Johnny’s magic directed towards him was the main reason Johnny could do very little to actually scare him.

That being said, it probably should’ve been worrisome, as a hunter, how simple it was for Johnny to side-step his limiter tattoos and draw out more and more power.

So long as it was targeted towards the things Doyoung was actually hunting, though, he couldn’t care less.

“Cover your ears,” Johnny suddenly said.

“Hm?” Doyoung frowned. Fuck, when had he zoned out?

Johnny gave him a gentle smile that contrasted heavily with the destruction he was dishing out, both on the poltergeist and the dining hall itself, his blasts cracking the floor and wall plaster. Reaching a hand out, he ran his fingers along Doyoung’s cheekbone up through his hair, settling it over his ear.

“Cover your ears. It’s going to get loud.”

“Louder than this?” Doyoung asked, holstering his guns so he could do as Johnny asked even as his skin burned where Johnny had touched.

Johnny nodded, smile turning a touch teasing. “Louder than this.”

  
  
  
  
  


Covering his ears didn’t do much, but the spell Johnny cast did, because he was a hundred percent sure the final blast would’ve sounded an awful lot like a bomb going off otherwise. The aftermath certainly looked it.

“There was no way to spare the dining hall, was there?” Doyoung asked, more of a rhetorical question than anything.

“Unfortunately not.” Johnny walked towards the blast radius, leaning down to pluck something off the floor. He sighed. “What a shame.”

Doyoung joined him, peeking over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

Johnny held up what looked like the beaten up remains of a child’s toy. A small monster action figure that had been dirtied and dented from time. 

“The tether.”

“How long has that been here?”

Johnny shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “Who knows. Objects move when they’re connected to spirits in a way they wouldn’t otherwise.” He turned the toy over in his fingers, rubbing away some of the collected dirt with his thumb. “It’s probably been here since before the school was built. Back when there was an orphanage here.”

Doyoung hummed softly, watching Johnny’s expression, eyeing the melancholy he saw there. “Probably, huh?”

“Probably.”

If Johnny didn’t want to tell him what he was seeing, what his magic showed him, Doyoung wouldn’t push. He trusted Johnny to tell him when it was something vital. If he didn’t think Doyoung needed to know what type of earth bound spirit had been corrupted and was now fading away entirely, then Doyoung would accept it. His silence was plenty telling anyway.

“Should we bury it?”  _ Do you want to bury it? _

Johnny shook his head. He breathed out something too low for Doyoung to catch and then flames of the palest white, nearly translucent, were licking up his hand, cracking and melting the hard plastic of the toy. Doyoung watched, captivated by the strange flame, until there was nothing left in Johnny’s palm — not even ash. Just the inexplicable scent of frankincense and sweetgrass.

“That should do it.” Johnny turned his head towards Doyoung, the smile he offered sullen around the edges in a way that made Doyoung’s chest ache. “We should go before someone comes in here to clean and open up for the day.”

Doyoung searched Johnny’s face, trying to gauge whether he should ask, if what he wanted to know was something Johnny would be willing to share. With a small sigh, he decided the answer was likely no. Not yet.

“We should break the lock on the doors,” Doyoung said, starting to walk away and letting the topic shift. He didn’t miss the way Johnny’s shoulder’s loosened, tension he hadn’t even noticed bleeding out as Johnny caught up and slung his arm around him again. This time across his lower back, hand coming to a firm rest on Doyoung’s hip. “Make it look like it was a break-in or something.” When Doyoung didn’t step out of his reach, Johnny hooked a thumb in one of the belt loops on his jeans, index finger tucking into his pocket. Doyoung took a measured breath, finally letting himself be tired and slouch into Johnny’s side. “Pretty sure one of the kids works here and was supposed to close up. Wouldn’t want them to get in trouble for this.”

Johnny snorted, jostling Doyoung where he was tucked close. “Those kids are gonna get you killed. Or caught.” He paused, shivering lightly as they stepped back out into the cold, barely morning air. “Not sure which is worse in your line of work.”

“Getting caught,” Doyoung said, slipping out of Johnny’s hold to quickly pull the doors closed, jamming his knife into the lock with enough force to shatter it entirely before stepping back under Johnny’s waiting arm. “No question.”

Johnny started to laugh, cutting off with a hacking cough when the wind picked up, the frigid air drying out his throat.

Doyoung gave him a nonplussed look, leaning away as he lead them from the dining hall, eager to get away before someone showed up.

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record…”

“I’m not going to get sick,” Johnny managed when he’d recovered from his coughing fit. “You’re going to go gray early worrying so much.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“ _ Achoo! _ ”

Doyoung let out an inhuman shriek, startling badly where he’d been curled up reading through one of Johnny’s bestiaries. “For fuck’s sake-  _ Johnny! _ ”

“Sorry,” Johnny winced, voice nasally from congestion and muffled by the tissue he was holding up. “It just kind of crept up on me.”

“I told you you were going to get sick!” Doyoung frowned.

Johnny whined, blowing his nose and giving Doyoung an utterly pitiful pair of puppy-dog eyes. “It wasn’t  _ that _ cold.”

“Yes it was,” Doyoung retorted, “And drink your tea, you’re not going to get better if you don’t get more fluids in your system.” Johnny opened his mouth and Doyoung cut him off with a withering look and a raised brow. “Coffee does not count.”

Johnny pouted, then, looking up with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, stood up from the corner of the living room he’d been quarantined to.

Doyoung, realizing what was about to happen, shook his head. “No.”

“I haven’t had a good night of sleep in nearly a week,” Johnny said, still pouting as he took a step forward, bundled up in his blanket like a burrito.

Doyoung shook his head harder, eyes wide. “ _ No _ .”

“Doyoung.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Johnny blinked at him innocently. Doyoung didn’t buy it for a second. “Johnny.” Another threatening step forward. He sniffled. Doyoung genuinely considered if rolling off the couch and making a break for it would be an overreaction to the situation. He eyed the fresh pile of tissues rapidly growing by where Johnny had been sitting and decided that no, it wouldn’t be. “I can’t afford a cold right now. Do you hear me Johnny? So don’t even think about- ack!”

Johnny pounced, Doyoung screamed.

“Mm,” Johnny practically purred, wrapping his arms around Doyoung’s waist and burying his face into Doyoung’s chest. “Much better.”

Doyoung made a sound of pure frustration, head falling back in defeat. “Why. Why do I have to suffer because  _ you didn’t listen to me _ .”

“Because suffering alone sucks,” Johnny mumbled, his breath heating the cotton of Doyoung’s shirt.

Doyoung shivered, covering it up by shimmying his legs into a more comfortable position, accepting his fate. Johnny made a little chirrup of approval, nuzzling closer with a closed-mouth cough.

“You’re awful and petty,” Doyoung told him with no heat in his voice, bringing up one hand to card through Johnny’s hair. 

Johnny groaned in approval, tightening his hold on Doyoung. “Pot, kettle.”

Doyoung snorted. “Don’t think this gets you out of drinking your tea.”

“It’s bitter,” Johnny whined.

“You say that like I care,” Doyoung said sweetly. “It’ll help so you’re going to finish it.”

Another whine, accompanied by Johnny reaching an arm back to try and pull the blanket higher on his shoulders. “Later.”

“It’s not going to be much better later,” Doyoung pointed out, watching him struggle for a bit before giving in and fixing the blanket for him. Johnny sighed in thanks, breathing evening out once he’d made himself comfortable wrapped around Doyoung again. Fondness welled up in Doyoung’s chest, quick and uncontrollable. “You’re such a baby.”

Johnny hummed, muscles slowly going lax. “You love me anyway.”

Doyoung laughed, propping the book he’d been reading through on Johnny’s shoulder while the other resumed carding through his hair. “I tolerate you.”

“Lies,” Johnny rumbled sleepily, the single word slurred as he drifted off.

Doyoung tugged lightly at Johnny’s hair but didn’t deny it. That would be a lie too.

  
  
  
  
  


A week later, Johnny was in tip-top shape and Doyoung felt like death.

“I hate you so much,” he grumbled darkly. Everything  _ hurt _ . He could feel his sinuses. He didn’t  _ want _ to feel his sinuses.

Johnny cooed at him like he was a particularly adorable kitten, smacking a kiss on Doyoung’s forehead that he hissed at. “Aw, want me to make you feel better?”

Despite the fact that they were in a very public space and he hadn’t actually caught any hints of suggestiveness in Johnny’s teasing, Doyoung still felt his whole face flush red. Without thinking, he flashed his hand out in a sharp jab to the warlock’s stomach, stomping off in satisfaction when the dumb giant doubled over, caught off-guard.

“Eat shit.”

  
  


✬✬✬✬✬

  
  


_ Doyoung fidgeted where he stood, the tattoos under his shirt — fresh,  _ earned _ — itched in the way all healing wounds did. He didn’t want to be here, in this mahogany walled room that screamed of old money and opulence, standing with a group of serious faced hunters across from a smaller group of men and women who radiated magic with every breath.  _

_ The tension singing in the air sat heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down. It was summer and it was late and Doyoung just wanted to be in bed. _

_ A door swung open behind the magic users, and a group of three came in — one man held between two. The tension rose. _

_ Doyoung’s mother, standing by his side, shoulders back and head held high, placed a hand at his back and smiled. “Doyoung,” she said, voice carrying sweetly in the subdued quiet of the room. “This is John Seo.” She gestured to the man being kept firmly in check even though he wasn’t making any attempt to escape. “You’ll be in each other’s care for a while.” _

_ Doyoung and the man — John Seo, a warlock no doubt — eyed each other. They both knew what that meant, the same way Doyoung knew what the three pairs of dark bands around John’s wrists were. This was a final test for the young hunter, and a punishment for the towering warlock. _

Keep an eye on him _ , his mother didn’t need to say.  _ If he steps out of bounds, hunt him _ . _

_ “You’re entrusting my guard to a child?” John said, addressing Doyoung’s mother while his gaze remained trained on Doyoung. Analyzing. Judging. “Gotten softer in old age, have you?” _

_ “Feel free to think that,” she said, still pleasant even as her eyes gleamed with something sharp and predatory. A hunter to the core. _

_ The warlock narrowed his eyes at her briefly before glancing back to Doyoung, stare turning cold and harsh. He smiled, a slow thing that crept across his face, teeth flashing. The room swelled for a beat with power, thick and imposing. The hunters bristled, the magic users glowered. John Seo grinned wider. A threat. _

_ This is what I can do even while bound, it said. _

_ Doyoung didn’t flinch even as a little voice in his head warned him,  _ This man is dangerous. This man is to be feared _ . _

_ He tilted his chin up, a challenge, a refusal to back down, extending his hand. His eyes were level, sharp in the way he’d been trained to keep them. “Pleasure to meet you. Doyoung Kim. I look forward to working with you.” _

_ “Johnny, please.” He curled his hand around Doyoung’s in a firm grip, tugging Doyoung closer to the startled shouts of everyone in the room. John —  _ Johnny _ — was very tall, presence imposing in a way Doyoung hadn’t ever come across. He wasn’t impressed. He  _ wasn’t _ . “The pleasure’s all mine I’m sure.” _

  
  
  
  
  


“Johnny?”

Johnny looked over from where he’d been staring off into the distance, eyes glazed over as he watched students walk across campus. “Hm?”

“You okay?” Doyoung asked. They were in public, playing their roles as faculty and student, so the most Doyoung could do was tap his foot lightly against Johnny’s ankle, a small gesture of comfort. “You were zoning out for a bit there.”

When Johnny smiled it was tight-lipped and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired ‘s all.”

He didn’t look tired. He looked stressed, tense, his shoulders hitched up close to his ears. It wasn’t like him and it worried Doyoung more than he’d care to admit. 

Doyoung frowned. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

Johnny’s smile turned a little more honest, eyes softening as he looked at Doyoung. He shifted his foot to return Doyoung’s ankle tap. “So you can fix it for me?”

“I’d be too worried your solution would involve collateral damage,” Doyoung sniffed, dropping his gaze back down to his notebook. 

They came here to consult on actual school work, for once. He was supposed to be focusing, not thinking about how there were bags under Johnny’s eyes, or how his hair, usually immaculately styled when he was playing the part of professor, was hanging soft across his forehead. 

_ It’s gotten long. _ Doyoung’s fingers itched with the urge to sift it to the side, tilt Johnny’s face up to the light and pick apart what he was trying to hide.  _ He’s going to need a cut soon. _

“Collateral damage,” Johnny mused, propping his cheek on his fist. “I don’t know if you get to judge me for collateral damage.”

“Shut up.”

“My big bad hunter,” Johnny teased, voice low, finally warm and present again. “Going to battle for me.”

“Why did I even say anything,” Doyoung muttered under his breath, earning himself a soft huff of laughter from the man across him. “You’re clearly perfectly fine. Why did I even worry.”

“Because you’re sweet like that.” Johnny said it like it was the world’s simplest truth. “It’s my favorite part about you.”

  
  
  
  
  


_ Johnny is a series of calculated masks and decisions. That’s one of the first things Doyoung learns about his new “charge”. _

_ He doesn’t do anything without thinking it through entirely, weighing the pros and cons. _

_ “It’s how the magical community works,” his mother had explained. “They’re cold-blooded. They won’t do anything that won’t benefit them in some way.” _

_ Doyoung thought hunters could be plenty cold-blooded as well. He also thought his mother wasn’t quite right in her statement.  _

_ Johnny was cold and careful, but in the way an animal who’d been wounded and trapped was. He’d rub over the bands inked into his skin when he thought Doyoung wasn’t looking, lips turned down at the corners, a bitter sort of resignation on his face. It always disappeared when he caught Doyoung’s stare, replaced by one of his many masks sliding into place. _

_ When he knew Doyoung was looking, he was all simmering fire and acidic smiles. _

_ Doyoung, a tired freshman dealing with school work and hunter business, slowly branching away from his family, understood. It hurt, having so much malice targeted towards him when he hadn’t been the cause of Johnny’s predicament. But he understood. _

_ He was a hunter. Johnny was chained, magic bound, because of hunters. _

_ He wouldn’t like himself either, if he was in Johnny’s place. _

  
  
  
  
  


“You haven’t noticed anything odd happening around the city lately, have you?” Johnny hedged.

They were walking through a farmer’s market, snacking on some of the goodies they’d already bought. Doyoung looked up at him, noting the way Johnny wasn’t making eye-contact, body language not quite tense, but not relaxed either.

“I wiped out a small pack of wraiths a few days ago,” Doyoung said around a mouthful of crackers and cheese. “Does that count?”

Johnny snorted, stepping closer so they could squeeze past the line for one of the vendors. “Not quite what I meant but it’s good to know you handled them safely.” He took a swig from one of the apple cider bottles he’d bought, pausing mid motion while putting the cap back on. “You did handle it safely, right?”

Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Not even my mother worries about me this much.”

“Wha- wraiths can be troublesome in packs,” Johnny said, defensive. “And your mother should worry about you more. You’re practically cohabitating with a criminal.”

Doyoung bristled. “You’re not a criminal.”

Johnny blinked down at him, caught off-guard by his tone. Doyoung cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck. Johnny watched him with something gentle settling over his features. Something like wonder.

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that.”

“You turned a few poachers into chimera and sold some magic items,” Doyoung forged on. He’d already started anyway, why not say what he’d been thinking for years now? “Neither of those things rank all that high on the list of Bad Things To Do in my opinion.”

“I did more than that,” Johnny said gently, shuffling closer when the market crowd forced them to walk single-file. He put a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder so he wouldn’t lose him. “You’ve seen the file on me. You know.”

“Doesn’t change much,” Doyoung persisted. “You can’t convince me you deserve this. Not anymore.”

Johnny’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t mind  _ this _ ,” he said, cheeky and sweet, “Not anymore.”

Doyoung would’ve stomped off if he could.

  
  
  
  
  


They finished off the outing by splitting a crepe, Doyoung licking nutella off his fingers while laughing at the fine dusting of powdered sugar on Johnny’s clothes.

Doyoung felt warm and full, the brisk early evening wind barely affecting him.

He only remembered Johnny’s initial question as they were sitting squished together on the bus back home, Johnny’s head lolling closer to his shoulder with every bump in the road they hit.

_ If it was important, he would’ve pressed it, _ Doyoung told himself.  _ If it was important, he wouldn’t have let it go. _ He glanced at Johnny breathing softly from the corner of his eye.  _ God, please let me be right. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


A week later, three people were reported missing.

  
  
  
  
  


_ “Are you crazy?” Johnny demanded, eyes flashing dangerously. “What the fuck were you thinking jumping in like that?” _

_ “You were about to get bit,” Doyoung said simply, cleaning his knife with the edge of his shirt. “So I took care of it.” _

_ “I was handling it,” Johnny seethed, his anger a physical thing in the semi-confined space of the deserted alleyway they were in. _

_ “You were about to use magic you aren’t allowed to.” Doyoung fixed him with a piercing look. “You ever consider that your leash keeps getting shorter because you keep pulling at it?” _

_ Johnny all but growled. “I don’t want to hear that from you, hunter.” _

_ Doyoung shrugged. “Whatever. Throw yourself against it if you want, but don’t expect me to sit back and watch someone get attacked if I can help. It’s just not me.” _

  
  
  
  
  


Something was wrong. Doyoung wasn’t sure what, but he  _ knew _ something was wrong.

He felt it in the air, in the way his skin was crawling, an itch settling under the surface that he couldn’t seem to scratch. It had him looking over his shoulder, eyes shifting, scanning faces and surroundings for any possible threat, jumping when Ten called his name, loud as usual, from the other side of the green.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so jumpy,” he snorted, dropping his bag down next to Doyoung’s and joining him on the ground. “You good?”

“Just feeling a little off,” Doyoung shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s up? You look excited considering you just came from class.”

“You haven’t heard?” Ten asked, giddy with gossip. “I’m surprised considering how close you and Professor Seo are.”

Doyoung, who’d been rifling around his bag for a pen, whipped his head up so fast he nearly pulled a muscle. “Haven’t heard what? What happened?”

That was evidently the reaction Ten was hoping for, considering the smirk playing on his lips. “He didn’t show up for lecture today.” Doyoung’s heart was beating hard in his chest, the sense of foreboding he’d felt all day rearing its head and squeezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Apparently no one’s seen him in a few days.”

Doyoung felt a chill run down his spine. He’d messaged Johnny just yesterday. Johnny had responded. Or… Doyoung thought it’d been him. The news blasts about the increasing number of missing people flashed across Doyoung’s mind.

_ Fuck. _

“No one? You sure?”

“Yeah,” Ten propped his chin on his hand, a small thoughtful frown creasing the skin between his brows. “I think the last time anyone on campus saw him was last Tuesday. Scary isn’t it?” A pause. “You really didn’t know?”

Johnny had dragged Doyoung out to try a new cafe on Thursday. Still, that was nearly a week ago. He hadn’t thought much of it because they were still texting, and Doyoung had been busy with school, but now…

“No,” he breathed, voice faint. He cleared his throat, hands curling into fists. “I didn’t know.”

Ten tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Doyoung? Doyoung are you okay?”  _ No _ , Doyoung thought,  _ I’m really not _ . “You look a bit pale, want me to- hey, wait, where’re you going?”

“I just remembered I have to talk to Professor Cruz about the topic of my next analysis.” Doyoung shoved his things into his bag with shaking hands. “Sorry. See you at the apartment later?”

Ten was watching him carefully. Moments like these, Doyoung remembered that his friends were actually very sharp, and that they allowed Doyoung his secrets more often than not.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “See you at the apartment.”

Doyoung nodded. A promise. He’d be back. Whatever was happening, he’d be back. And then he was off.

Pulling out his phone he went through his chat history with Johnny, typing a short message in. Testing.

_ Hey, are you still sick? _

He waited, walking fast. The message typing bubbles popped up a second before his phone vibrated.

_ Yeah, I am. _

Doyoung narrowed his eyes at his phone screen.

_ Want me to come over and make you something? _

A shorter pause this time between replies.

_ No, it’s fine. _

Doyoung’s heart dropped.

_ Okay, _ he sent, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

_ You better be okay, _ he thought, just barely keeping himself from breaking into a run.  _ You better be fucking okay. _

Something was wrong, and Doyoung wished he’d realized it sooner.

  
  
  
  
  


_ “My family was murdered in a fight over council seat succession,” Johnny told Doyoung one day in sophomore year, lying on the floor of his apartment. The AC was out and they’d stripped down to sleeveless shirts and shorts, the weather not quite getting the message that it was supposed to be fall. “I wasn’t supposed to survive, but I did.” _

_ Doyoung had asked about the long scar that cut across Johnny’s chest, the ends of which crept onto his shoulder. He’d asked, but he hadn’t expected an answer. _

_ “I wiped them out in return. The people who’d killed my family. I wiped them out and cursed their bloodline.” _

_ “That’s how you got your first band.” _

_ Johnny nodded in his periphery. “That’s how I got my first band.”  _

_ “Do you regret it?” _

_ Johnny shook his head. “No.” _

_ Doyoung nodded.  _ Sounds about right _ . _

_ He heard Johnny turning to look at him, his hair rustling faintly on the hardwood floor. Doyoung copied him, studying the planes of Johnny’s face, not for the first time. Johnny was very handsome. A truth Doyoung had come to realize during their first meeting that was only further emphasized the longer he knew the warlock. Johnny was very handsome, and Doyoung was very weak. _

_ “Does that scare you?” Johnny was smiling but his eyes were searching. Doyoung was sure he was used to being feared, for better or worse. “Do I scare you?” _

_ “Wouldn’t be a very good hunter if I scared that easy,” Doyoung replied, straightforward. Simple. _

_ Johnny’s smile grew, laughter slipping past his lips. So loud and friendly. At odds with the image he liked to paint of himself. _

_ “No,” he chuckled, eyes curved up into crescents, rolling onto his side so he could face Doyoung completely. “I guess you wouldn’t be.” _

  
  
  
  
  


Johnny’s apartment was a mess. The door hadn’t been damaged, likely to upkeep appearances, but the inside wasn’t treated as nicely.

The signs of a struggle were everywhere.

The couch had been tipped back, cushions torn and singed. His coffee table had been shattered, wood splintering dangerously. There were cracks in the walls from heavy impacts, and splatters of blood that had Doyoung’s breathing coming in progressively shorter bursts. There was magic hanging in the air that wasn’t Johnny’s, malicious intent clear when Doyoung knew what to look for.

Johnny had been taken after putting up a hard fight. 

Doyoung tried to take a steadying breath, mind racing. Johnny, even restricted, was strong. Very strong and infuriatingly clever. For someone to burst in here, past his wards and spellwork, and over power him, they’d have to have been even stronger.

Doyoung’s hands were shaking. He told himself it was anger.

How dare someone march into his territory of protection and just do as they please. Who the fuck did they think they were? Who the fuck did they think Doyoung was?

He flexed his hands, letting the anger at being underestimated quell the suffocating worry. The fear.

Doyoung would find Johnny. He’d find who took him. And then he’d kill them.

He breathed, in and out, rubbing a hand over Johnny’s tattoo. 

Easy.

  
  
  
  
  


_ “Why’re you so nice to me?” Johnny asked, sitting behind his desk, staring at Doyoung curled up in the chair across from him like he was a puzzle to be figured out. _

_ “I’m nice to you?” _

_ A smile twitched at the corner of Johnny’s lips, amused and cat-like. “Comparatively.” _

_ “Well,” Doyoung started, putting down his textbook. “I don’t see a reason not to be. You’ve helped me. Haven’t done anything particularly vindictive recently. That’s already more than I can say about my best friend, so…” _

_ Johnny was smiling. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. It suited him so much more than the apathetic glances and glares.  _

_ “You’re standards worry me, Doyoung Kim.” _

_ Doyoung shrugged. “I give as good as I get so it doesn’t really bother me.” _

_ Johnny snorted so hard he almost choked. _

  
  
  
  
  


Doyoung asked the magic left in the air to help him find Johnny and watched a glowing trail only he could see form. It went against everything hunters preached to borrow assistance from magic, but Doyoung was long past caring about outdated rules.

Armed with his knife, a gun, and two spare magazines, Doyoung set out.

He followed the path as it led him out of Johnny’s neighborhood and down underground. Doyoung kept his breaths measured, his steps quiet, and his senses on high alert as he crept along in the dark. The only light came from the floating particles of magic that guided him, leading him further and further into the sewer system until he reached the sections that were dry from disuse.

Doyoung realized he recognized the area. It’d been where the ghouls had hunkered down a month ago. Sniffing lightly at the air, Doyoung would swear they never left, the smell of death still hanging heavy around him.

A loud crack and low groan echoed from up ahead. Doyoung froze, muscles tense, ready to move at a moments notice.

The low, unintelligible sound of someone talking followed by another loud hit.

Doyoung drew his gun, holding it firmly in a steady grip. The magic that had been guiding him was moving in short, frantic zig-zags. 

“Help me,” he said, “Protect me. And I’ll save him. I promise.”

The particles fluttered around his head and then reformed their path, a perfectly straight line that went to the end of the tunnel — where a cavernous opening on the left was casting a low light — and stopped.

Doyoung smiled, grim and determined. “Thank you.”

He crept along, steps silent, breathing slowed to something nearly non-existent. The sounds from the opening grew louder.

“- thought I wouldn’t notice?” A loud whack. The crunch of a nose breaking. The splat of blood being spat out. “You get stupid in your years of being chained up like a dog, Seo?”

A wet laugh cut off by a hacking cough. “Just didn’t think you’d notice me interfering. You never were all that good at sensory spells. Guess even a dumb dog can learn new tricks.”

A low growl. “You little fucker.”

Another sound that Doyoung now recognized as a punch, followed by what had to be a kick. Doyoung’s grip on his gun tightened. 

“Always relied on magic,” Johnny taunted. “Never learned how to fight without it.”

Doyoung slid up to the tunnels end, sidestepping a poorly concealed alarm spell painted onto the ground as he peeked around the corner. He was just in time to see an older man drive his heel into Johnny’s knee.

The sound Johnny made as his joint dislocated and his tendons ripped was heartbreaking.

“Cocky bastard,” the man laughed, expression verging on hysterical. “I’m gonna enjoy using you as a conduit for my spell.” He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Johnny’s hair, yanking his head back at a painful angle. “Hearing you scream as you’re ripped apart. Can’t fucking wait.”

He released Johnny with a shove, his head bouncing back against the stone wall with a stomach turning  _ thunk _ .

Doyoung eyed the space in front of him, the lack of exits and auxiliary tunnels. He noted the rune etched chains keeping Johnny in place, the links that would allow for a clean, one-shot break.

“Your family started this,” Johnny sneered, confrontational despite the pain that was obvious in his voice. “They got everything that was coming to them.” He coughed and blood came out. “The only thing I regret,” he laughed, vicious and reckless, “is not making it slower.”

The man — a warlock too, with an odd, warped magic flowing off him — pulled out a long blade with a wicked curve. He held it out, the point coming to rest under Johnny’s chin.

“You,” he was seething, spitting, “Maybe I should hold off on my spell.” He pressed the blade closer, hooking it against Johnny’s jaw, digging in until a trail of dark blood was trickling down. Doyoung breathed in, anger flaring, narrowing into a fine edge. He took aim. “Maybe I should go find your pretty little hunter, the one who’s been vouching for you, protecting you. Maybe I should find him and bring him here and kill him in front of you.  _ Slowly _ .” The man grinned, eyes glinting with a manic light in the dim setting. “How does that sound, Seo? Would you like to see that?”

Johnny laughed, low and dark. “ _ ‘My little hunter’ _ ? Hah, I’d certainly love to see you try.”

The man snarled, livid. He’d end up killing Johnny in his rage, whatever he intended for the taller be damned. Doyoung stepped smoothly into view to intervene before that could happen, taking his shot.

The warlock yowled, dropping the knife and gripping his thigh. Doyoung advanced, shifting his aim up a hair, squeezing his trigger. The warlock was forced back, the first two bullets finding their mark in the soft flesh of his shoulder, his hip. The rest were deflected into the ground by a hastily cast shield, the air shimmering faintly where it hovered.

He was regarding Doyoung with wide, wild eyes, watching the hunter step fully into the space — in front of Johnny in a protective stance — with a gaping mouth.

“How-”

“I’ve been living with this one for four plus years, now,” Doyoung said, tone and posture unwavering. “If you wanted to hide, do better.”

The man snarled, his face twisting up with pain and hatred. Closer, Doyoung could see that he was covered in dark markings that warped his skin, pulling his muscles in painful, unnatural directions noticeable even under his clothes. 

_ “I wiped them out and cursed their bloodline.” _

So that was how it’d manifested. Ugly, like their actions.

“You fucker. You’re just as cocky as your pet,” the warlock spat, hand pressed to his shoulder, blood trickling past his fingers. “You really think I’m scared of a child with a gun? The Seo boy is more of a threat than you, and he’s chained up!”

“Wow,” Doyoung drawled, “You must be ancient if you’re calling Johnny  _ ‘boy’ _ .”

The warlock’s face turned an interesting shade of purple in response to that. Doyoung heard a low clink behind him.

The warlock sneered. “Fucking brat-”

Doyoung, when he wanted to, could move very fast. Even amongst his family he was light footed and quick. It generally caught the people (and monsters) he fought off guard.

The warlock, not used to people attacking instead of running, fighting with fists as opposed to magic from a distance, was no exception.

He took a startled, floundering step back as Doyoung charged, gun up and shooting. 

_ Three, four, five… _

Without pause, Doyoung reached back, closing his fingers around one of the spare magazines he’d tucked in his waistband. 

_ Six, seven, reload. _

Empty magazine ejected onto the floor, fresh one loaded in, Doyoung kept advancing. Johnny had taught him long ago that there were inherent weak points in every shield, even if it was magically created.

_ “Especially if it’s magic based. Because, at the end of the day, magic is just an extension of the person who cast it, tied to them at the basest level.” _

So Doyoung fired off round after round, drawing focus to one spot so that when he was close enough he could spin and slam his heel into a weaker section with a satisfying crack. The warlock, breathing heavy under the unexpected onslaught of bullets and from the marks on his skin that had begun glowing a putrid orange, yelped. His hand dropped away from his shoulder wound, arm going limp as a bone cracked in correspondence to the damage his shield took.

Doyoung, trained to never let an opening go to waste, fired off three more rounds at the same portion of shield, ducking in and under when the magic shattered away entirely — the warlock in too much pain to upkeep the barrier.

“ _ Fucker _ ,” he growled, stomping his foot against the ground, a spike erupting from nothing. Doyoung, reflexes honed from more experience than his age belied, rolled out of the way and back onto his feet, gun following only a beat behind. He fired and caught the warlock’s other shoulder. “ _ You fucker _ !”

At the point where Johnny started to spar with Doyoung — casual play fights to give him experience handling an opponent with magic — he had already warmed to the hunter. He’d never come at him with anger or true killing intent, always going easy on him. Ultimately hesitant to hurt him. Doyoung had always teased him for it, but he’d never considered it a true detriment.

Now, he was seeing how wrong he’d been.

The blow came hard and fast, leaving Doyoung furiously blinking stars from his eyes, trying to clear his vision and his head, gun dropping out of his limp hand. He couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll _kill_ _you_.”

Doyoung dropped to a knee, heaving. Something was pressing on his shoulders, his chest,  _ his lungs _ . He coughed. Choked. Fuck. He _ couldn’t breathe _ .

“ _ Doyoung! _ ”

There was a hand in his hair, harsh, pulling his head up and back. “Hunters have always been such a nuisance,” the warlock hissed, “Sticking your noses where they don’t belong out of some warped sense of justice.” The air thickened, rancid, as it solidified in Doyoung’s lungs. “Although,” the warlock continued, leer clear in his voice even if Doyoung couldn’t see, lack of oxygen making his eyes too blurry to make out anything more than general shapes, “I suppose your reason is a bit  _ different _ , isn’t it? Tell me, does your family of big bad hunters know you let a branded warlock fuck you?”

Doyoung spat in the general direction of the man’s face, hand hanging by his thigh, slowly going for the knife he’d tucked in his boot. Just a little longer, he just had to hold out a little longer.

“You little-”

The sound of the chains binding Johnny breaking resounded like a clap of thunder. His magic, free from the nullification of the runes engraved on each little link, blasted out in a wave of burning energy. 

It left the air light and tasting faintly of a campfire in the winter. Purified of the older warlock’s rotting magic.

Doyoung doubled over — the grip in his hair releasing from shock — gasping and coughing, aching lungs trying to pull in air as fast as they could now that he could breathe again.

“How?” the warlock asked, voice cracking.

“I shot the chain, you fucking idiot,” Doyoung rasped, glaring, all fire and coiling aggression. “Hitting you in the leg was just a bonus.”

The warlock made a broken noise of frustration, raising his hand, the air humming briefly before the gathering magic dispelled with a  _ whump _ . He blinked, wide-eyed and confused.

“My magic, wha-” Realization dawned on him and he snapped his gaze over to Johnny, still propped up against the wall where he’d been left, cradling his ribs with his hand. “You-”

That was the last thing he said before Doyoung sprung forward, slamming his knife — all six inches of it — into his neck, pushing until he’d cut through trachea and hit bone.

The warlock, still nameless to Doyoung, sputtered, blood pooling in his mouth and spilling over his lips. He opened his mouth, to say what Doyoung wouldn’t know, the only sound coming out being a wet gurgle.

Doyoung changed his hold on the knife’s handle, knuckles going white. “You should’ve kept your eyes on me.”

And then he pulled, muscles straining and bunching as he tore through tendon and cartilage, severing the warlock’s spine and half his neck in one go.

Blood splattered out, arterial spray catching Doyoung in the face. He pressed his lips into a tight line, twirling his knife once it was free to change his grip, before bringing it down in a short arc, burying it in the warlock’s chest.

On a normal human, it’d be overkill. With someone who could channel magic, had it flowing through their veins, you could never be too careful.

Wiping at his face with the back of his hand, Doyoung pushed himself to his feet. He sighed through his nose at the warm wet of his jeans, blood having pooled on the floor and seeped into his clothes where he was kneeling.

_ Lovely. _

Rubbing at his chest, as if that would ease the faint ache of his lungs, Doyoung walked back to where Johnny sat, the taller man watching him with naked relief on his face.

“He thought I was the bigger threat,” Johnny said, tone distorted by the swelling of his nose and what had to be a fractured jaw — judging by the ugly shade of deep purple it was already turning. 

Doyoung snorted softly, dropping down next to him, gently turning Johnny’s head with his fingers. “They always do.”

Johnny winced, a slow hiss slipping past his lips when Doyoung prodded at his jaw. 

_ Yup, fractured. If not broken. _

“He was trying to bring his family back.”

“You shouldn’t be talking right now,” Doyoung said mildly, moving on to Johnny’s chest and ribs, feeling for anything that was poking out where it shouldn’t. “You’re just going to make that jaw of yours worse.”

“He took all those people, put them under a stasis spell, so he could use them to get his family back,” Johnny continued, ignoring Doyoung’s advice. “A life for a life. He was going to use me as the catalyst.”

Doyoung ran his hands over Johnny’s sides, gentle in his checking, taking note of when Johnny tried to flinch away. “How’d he even find you in the first place? You have wards everywhere and you’ve kept such a low profile.”

Johnny sighed, resting his head back against the wall. “I noticed there was new magic in town, felt him slip past my wards. When people started to go missing I went looking for him. Didn’t realize he’d been looking for me, too.”

“You should’ve told me.” Doyoung was frowning, turning his attention to Johnny’s knee. It was bent at a painful angle, clearly sitting wrong in the socket. “I would’ve helped. You know that.”

“I know,” Johnny said, voice small and pained.

Doyoung tried to assess the damage to Johnny’s joint as gently as possible, but even if he cut away the pant-leg of his slacks, he still wouldn’t be able to tell if it was actually just a dislocation or something more serious. 

_ If the bone is shattered… _

“You can pop it back in,” Johnny told him, watching him hesitate. 

Doyoung wasn’t sure he trusted himself to. He’d dealt with patella dislocations before, but never something like this. Johnny’s joint was, to put it bluntly, going the wrong way, and Doyoung didn’t want to accidentally make it worse. 

“You can’t just  _ episkey _ it into place yourself?” Doyoung asked, already going for the bottom hem of the pant-leg anyway to tear at the outer seam. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just make a Harry Potter reference while I’m sitting here, injured and in pain,” Johnny grumbled through clenched teeth, grunting when Doyoung yanked at the material of his slacks until the stitching gave way. 

“I’m just saying,” Doyoung shuffled around, stomach just a tad queasy now that Johnny’s knee was bare. The damage, of course, looked much worse like this. “If you can do any of this yourself it’d probably be better than me possibly making it worse.”

“I can’t relocate it,” Johnny said, words tapering off into a hiss. “The most I can do is mend it once it’s back in place.”

“That doesn’t sound very helpful,” Doyoung muttered, steadying himself before placing a hand on Johnny’s shin, just below his knee. 

Johnny closed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping before he seemed to remember that that would hurt too. “Tell me about-”

Doyoung, having accepted he had to do this, didn’t let Johnny finish, pulling his knee up with one hand while he bent his leg with the other. His knee, by the grace of some higher power, clicked back into place with a loud  _ schlick _ and a sharp, breathless gasp on Johnny’s part.

“Sorry,” Doyoung said, looking up at him with wide eyes, mildly panicked by the way Johnny had paled. “It’s best if you don’t expect it.”

“Thanks,” Johnny wheezed, eyes squeezing shut again.

Doyoung shuffled tentatively closer, wary of the way Johnny was curling in on himself. He reached out, carding his fingers through Johnny’s hair in gentle strokes until the tension in his shoulders and back lessened a fraction.

“I need you to sit back so I can check where you’re bleeding from,” Doyoung told him softly.

“Everywhere,” Johnny mumbled, voice hitching on a whine. “I hurt everywhere.”

Doyoung pushed lightly at his shoulder until Johnny got the message that Doyoung wasn’t going to leave him to hunch forward like that and finally sat up with a grimace. A quick once over told Doyoung that Johnny would have a scar crossing his chest opposite the one he already had when he finally healed. The laceration too deep and pulsing faintly of the other warlock’s magic to be patched up without a trace. He had a few more cuts and slashes that would likely leave behind thin lines of scar tissue as well, his arms and shoulders having taken the brunt of the damage.

“Do you have an undershirt on?” Doyoung asked.

“Mm-mm,” Johnny shook his head with a small jerk, breathing slow and controlled through his nose. 

He was tired and hurt, whatever adrenaline had been pumping through him likely slowing to a crawl. Doyoung had to get them out of here fast or Johnny would end up passing out, and then where would they be? Doyoung couldn’t drag his unconscious ass through the streets covered in blood. He’d get arrested.

“Okay, I’m going to need your help here, Johnny. I need to clean and bandage your cuts, but I can’t do that here.”

Johnny hummed, letting Doyoung know he was listening.

“I’m going to wrap what I can with some cloth now to try and stem whatever’s still bleeding, but I’m going to need you to get us home.” He leaned forward, pressing a palm to Johnny’s cheek. “Johnny, will you be able to?”

He blinked his eyes open, mouth pressed into a tight line from pain and exhaustion. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough, “I think I can manage that.”

  
  
  
  
  


They crash in Johnny’s room that night with the door closed to block out the destruction that had touched the rest of the apartment. Johnny, wrapped in bandages soaked in salves and enchantments, an empty glass of whiskey on his bedside table. Doyoung, still in his dirtied up clothes, a blade hidden just within reach, an ankle hooked around Johnny’s good leg.

“I’m pretty sure the other missing people are alive,” Johnny mumbled, half asleep, reaching blindly for Doyoung’s hand.

Doyoung met him halfway, fitting his hand in Johnny’s, comfortable and reassuring. “Tomorrow. We’ll find them tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  
  


They find everyone who’d been taken three days later back where Doyoung had tracked down Johnny, tucked away in a pocket dimension only accessible through magic.

“And you wanted to leave me behind,” Johnny panted, a hand over his ribs.

_ An idiot. A tall, tall, idiot. _

“You better not reopen any wounds from this,” Doyoung warned, checking over the humans. They’d been blanketed with a stasis spell to hold them in time, but other than that they seemed to be fine. “We still need to get these people out of here.”

“We could always use the pocket dimension again,” Johnny suggested, tone chipper despite the way he was currently using Doyoung as a crutch.

“You want to shove them  _ back _ into there?”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s either that or carry them one by one.” He blinked down at Doyoung, leaning more of his weight against him. “And I’m not supposed to be doing strenuous activity. Your orders.”

Doyoung narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t about to trek around one person at a time. There were like, at least twelve people here.

“Fine. Into the pocket dimension they go.”

  
  
  
  
  


“All good?” Ten asked a week later, munching on one of the sandwiches Kun had made them.

They were watching TV in the lounge of one of the underclassmen dorms, waiting for Jaemin, Jeno, and Jisung to show up for the bi-weekly tutoring sessions they’d set up. The news was on — because no one had been able to find the remote and apparently this was the default channel — running a segment about the miraculous reappearance of everyone who’d been missing.

Ten had been observing him all day, the same considering but mildly frustrated look in his eyes as when Doyoung stumbled back home in borrowed clothes the morning after rescuing Johnny.

Doyoung turned away from the TV, looking at Ten. He had questions. Doyoung knew he did. Which is why he appreciated this display of self-restraint all the more.

“Yeah.” The sounds of excited shouting and Jisung whining reached their ears from the hall. “All’s good.”

  
  
  
  
  


“You said he wanted to bring his family back,” Doyoung murmured, slowly drifting off, lulled by warmth of the blanket he’d been bundled in and the sounds of Johnny breathing. “Would it’ve worked?”

It was a random question months after the fact, but it had been niggling at the back of his mind.

Johnny rolled onto his side, facing Doyoung, eyes so impossibly sad. “No. It wouldn’t have. Even magic has laws. Limitations. To bring back the dead...” he inhaled, shuddering, “It wouldn’t work.”

Doyoung nodded. He thought of a teenager who’d found himself the sole survivor of a brutal massacre. Angry and desperate. Left to figure out the rules that governed the great strength he had on his own. Had he learned the hard way that resurrection didn’t work? Had someone taken him under their wing and noticed his rage, warned him against it, explained why not?

“Love and loss,” he sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around him, tucking it right up to his chin, “They’ll have you doing things you’d never expect.”

Johnny snorted softly, reaching out to tug Doyoung closer, sliding him across the pile of blankets they’d set out on the floor in front of the TV to celebrate the start of winter break. Doyoung was leaving to visit his family in two days and Johnny had suggested the sleepover. Doyoung, noticing the way Johnny had been twirling his pen, the only anxious tick that broke the otherwise flawless facade of nonchalance, had easily said yes.

“They’ll have you becoming a different person if you aren’t careful,” he said, forehead to forehead now, speaking lowly into the space between them. “Sometimes that’s bad,” he continued, eyes glittering in the dark with an unspoken affection that had become the norm as he met Doyoung’s questioning gaze, “but sometimes, sometimes it’s good.”

“Your punishment,” Doyoung said, matching Johnny’s tone, the quiet in the room comfortable and intimate.

Johnny smiled. “A blessing and a curse in equal parts.”

Doyoung mirrored his grin, blinks becoming slower as sleep finally claimed him. It wasn’t hard to guess which part was which.

  
  
  
  
  


_ “You don’t care that I’m dangerous, do you?” _

_ The question came with an amused tilt to an annoyingly attractive pair of lips, attached to a person who was annoyingly attractive overall. _

_ “So long as I could probably take you, no,” Doyoung sniffed, “not really.” _

_ “Oh,” Johnny leaned forward in his seat, propping his arms on his desk, the sleeves of his button-up stretching tight over his biceps. Doyoung tried not to notice.  _ Tried _ , being the optimum word. “You think you could take me?” _

_ Doyoung...Doyoung wasn’t sure they were still talking about in a fight anymore. No, actually, he was sure they weren’t. He took a deep breath, deciding.  _

Okay, sure, why not.

_ “Yeah,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, knowing he looked good post-internship meeting. “I’m pretty sure I could.” _

_ Johnny’s eyes widened in a way that suggested he hadn’t actually expected Doyoung to rise to the bait. But, Doyoung was graduating this year, starting grad school the next — though Johnny didn’t know that quite yet. He deserved to live a little. Be a bit bold for once, instead of carefully controlled. _

_ Johnny huffed out a small disbelieving laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. It did nothing to hide the way his eyes were curving up into the most endearing crescents, laugh lines creasing his skin. _

_ “Why do I feel like you’ll be the death of me?” _

_ Doyoung raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. He was feeling brave. _

_ “Maybe I’ll be the reason you live. Who knows.” _

  
  


✬✬✬✬✬+✬

  
  


Of course the one time Doyoung would run into Johnny off campus unplanned, it would be at some dingy bar surrounded by people he knew.

Of course Johnny would be with a group of equally young looking professors, laughing happily, beer in hand.

And, of course, he’d look like something straight out of Doyoung’s wet dreams, dressed in a well-worn band tee with the sleeves cut out to reveal muscled arms and swaths of skin, and squeezed into a pair of tight distressed jeans that were giving Doyoung heart palpitations. He looked like a fucking college kid and Doyoung, usually able to stuff down these feelings in public, wanted to jump him right then and there.

“Is that Professor Seo?” Kun asked, coming up next to Doyoung with their drinks, Ten in tow.

_ The one night we all decide to go out _ , Doyoung internally grumbled.  _ Of-fucking-course. _

“Holy shit,” Ten breathed. “It is. And that’s Professor Park and Kim, too.” Ten eyed the trio of teachers in blatant interest and Doyoung couldn’t blame him. “Damn. They look hot. Didn’t realize Professor Seo had tats.”

Doyoung made a vague sound of distress, already two drinks in and desperately in need of his third. Johnny’s ass looked so good. His legs looked so  _ long _ . God, he’d even styled his hair down into something messy and rocker-esque. Doyoung took a long sip of the cocktail Kun had gotten him, the sugar and alcohol hitting his system quick enough but doing very little to tamp down the pool of heat building in his stomach.

“Hey,” Ten nudged Doyoung’s shoulder, a wicked look in his eye that spelled nothing but trouble and the start of bad decisions. “Think you can come up with a good enough reason to go over there?”

“We’re not doing that,” Doyoung said, too quick to be calm and reasonable.

Ten’s grin widened. “C’mon Doyoung, you’re always meeting up with him for something, you have to be comfortable enough to go strike up a conversation.”

“Take one for the team,” Kun nodded in agreement.

The problem, Doyoung couldn’t say, was that he was  _ too  _ comfortable with  _ Professor Seo _ . He was more likely to do something incriminating than anything else at the rate his thoughts were spinning out, still fantastically stuck on how badly he wanted to kiss Johnny right now. How much he wanted to run his hands over his thighs and stomach and chest, to just  _ feel _ everything Johnny had so kindly put on display.

“There’s no fucking way-”

“Professor Seo!”

And there went Ten, slipping off before Doyoung could think to stop him, grab him, strangle him, do anything to prevent the disaster that was about to occur.

Johnny, along with Professors Park and Kim, turned to look for who had called mid-sip.

Doyoung could tell the moment Johnny noticed him, his gaze sliding over Ten and Kun first before landing on him. His expression went from surprised, to briefly hungry, to carefully friendly in the span of a second.

Doyoung, wearing skinny jeans that hugged his thighs and an untucked flannel shirt rolled to his elbows and unbuttoned down to the start of his chest, felt just a touch self-conscious.

“Hi there,” he said once Ten had dragged Kun and Doyoung over to their table with single-minded determination. “What a pleasant surprise, running into such friendly faces here.”

“Likewise,” Ten grinned, batting his eyes, the gesture annoyingly sultry instead of ridiculous thanks to the eyeliner he’d smudged on as they were leaving earlier. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen you here before.”

It was clear the assembled professors were highly amused by Ten’s extremely transparent flirting, the main thing making this even marginally acceptable being their upcoming graduation in two months. Johnny, gaze flicking to Doyoung quickly, was smiling wide and entertained.

“I don’t go out that much,” he admitted with a conspiratorial not-whisper.

“It was a miracle we were even able to drag him out tonight,” Professor Park told them, voice loud even amongst the bar’s din.

Johnny rolled his eyes, playful but not disagreeing. Ten giggled, grip on Doyoung’s arm tightening.

That, in hindsight, should’ve been a red flag.

“Really? Wow, what magic does Doyoung work, then, to always manage to lure you out?”

It was said jokingly, but the sly cut to Ten’s mouth said it was a hundred percent a cornering question. Kun, noticing the same thing, almost choked on his beer.

“Oh,” Professor Kim’s eyes went round. He looked at Doyong with something scarily like recognition considering Doyoung had never actually taken one of his classes. “So this is the infamous, top student everyone talks about.”

Professor Park was looking at him too, eyes shifting between whatever panic Doyoung wasn’t able to hide and Johnny’s neutral smile with something a little too close to understanding flashing there.

Professor Kim, flushed pink and eyes glassy, didn’t seem to notice the growing tension. He frowned, lips pushing out into a pout that was oddly cute on the older man. “I don’t think I’ve ever had you in a class? Why haven’t I had you in a class?”

“Because Johnny here has been keeping him all to himself,” Professor Park teased, gaze firmly settled on Johnny now.

Johnny laughed, easy, giving nothing away. “Not my fault my classes are more relevant to his line of study.”

Professor Park snorted. “Uh huh, I’m sure that’s why.”

“Unfortunately it is,” Ten sighed, dramatic and over the top, looking up at Doyoung with mock-pity. “This one sold his soul to academia.”

“Fuck you,” Doyoung grumbled, eyes narrowed as he shoved his friend back with two finger to the forehead.

“Doyoung here is just the type to dedicate himself to things one-hundred percent,” Johnny unhelpfully added, biting back a wide grin, trying and failing to hide it behind the mouth of his bottle.

Doyoung would kill him. He’d kill Ten, and then Johnny.

He downed his drink in one go, heat crawling up his neck. He was flustered and turned on and he needed to put some space between himself and this situation.

“I’m gonna go get another,” he said to no one in particular, slipping free of Ten’s hold before he could stop him and disappearing towards the bar.

It was more crowded here, but it was easier for Doyoung to finally breathe.  _ Well, this is a mess. _ He called over the bartender and ordered a beer this time. 

He was tactfully avoiding eye-contact with the group of girls two seats down shooting him interested looks when someone sidled up next to him, pressing tight to his side.

“You look like you’re having a mini meltdown,” Johnny breathed near his ear.

“My worlds are colliding in the worst way possible.”

Johnny dropped his head, snickering into Doyoung’s shoulder. “Need a breather?”

If Doyoung thought fresh air would help the tension lining his shoulders, he would’ve gone outside instead of to the bar. He didn’t need to tell Johnny that, though.

“Need something else?”

Doyoung shivered. Johnny’s voice had dropped to an intimate rumble, lips brushing skin, an arm coming up to wrap around his waist.

One of the girls who’d been watching Doyoung gasped, the rest erupting into excited whispers.

Doyoung was trying to decide if he recognized them from any of his courses.

Johnny’s hand traveled down to his hip, slipping under Doyoung’s shirt to rub at the skin just above the line of his jeans.

“Someone is going to see.”

“You won’t be my student in two months.”

“You’re still technically my teacher and advisor right now.”

“I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“I’ve been busy with papers — one of which is for  _ your _ class — and finishing my thesis.”

“I’ve  _ missed _ you.”

This was said with a whine, Johnny nuzzling against the side of Doyoung’s neck.

Doyoung closed his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. He felt hot all over, his pulse loud in his ears. Anyone could see them. His friends, Johnny’s coworkers. They wouldn’t know that Johnny was a warlock who took up the professor position because it made it easier for Doyoung to keep an eye on him. They wouldn’t know that their relationship had never been something as simple and straightforward as teacher and student.

“Breathe, baby.”

Doyoung exhaled on a shudder.

“You’re wiping their memory if they notice.”

He felt Johnny’s grin, sharp and satisfied against his skin.

“Anything you want.”

  
  
  
  
  


Doyoung liked to think he was classier than fucking in a bar bathroom.

Evidently, he wasn’t.

“Did you lock the door?” Doyoung panted, head tilted back as Johnny kissed and nipped down his neck.

“Hm?” Johnny fumbled at the buttons of Doyoung’s flannel, getting just enough undone to have easy access to his chest and stomach.

“Johnny.” Doyoung threaded his fingers in his hair, pulling when Johnny didn’t respond.

“It’s not a single bathroom,” Johnny said, sucking at the hollow of Doyoung’s throat until he was satisfied with the mark he’d undoubtedly left. “The outer door doesn’t have a lock.”

“Well,” Doyoung grunted, Johnny’s hands sliding to his ass, squeezing and groping, before continuing down to his thighs to lift him up, pining him against the wall, “You better figure out how,” he cut off with a low keen as Johnny sucked at one of his nipples, “because-  _ ah _ \- if anyone walks in, I’m gonna fucking-”

Johnny waved his hand in the general direction of the door, a dull thump resounding as whatever spell he cast hit its mark and took root. “Happy?”

Doyoung arched his back, pressing his hips against Johnny’s in a slow grind, legs wrapping around his hips. “Very.”

Johnny moaned low in his throat at the contact, rutting forward in response, the line of his dick pressing hard against Doyoung’s through their jeans.

“Fuck,” Johnny groaned, biting at the muscle of Doyoung’s pec, “I need to- just- give me a second to-” He let go of one hand’s grip on Doyoung’s thighs to fumble with the buttons and zippers of both their jeans, sighing in relief when he got everything undone. “ _ Fuck _ , that feels so much better.”

Doyoung hummed in agreement, tugging Johnny’s focus up so he could kiss him, the initial press of lips turning into a desperate, heated slide of tongues and teeth real fast. There was too much spit, but Doyoung couldn’t bring himself to care, sucking on Johnny’s tongue until the taller man was moaning deep in his chest.

“Why the fuck don’t you dress like this more often?” Doyoung huffed in between kisses.

“Could ask you the same,” Johnny retorted, rolling his hips at a steady pace, the heat from their erections noticeable now that there was only the thin material of their underwear between them. “Wanted to fuck you when you and your friends walked up.”

Doyoung, despite everything, felt his cheeks flush, preening at the compliment. “Good to know we were thinking the same thing.”

When Johnny laughed it was more of a purr, the sound shooting straight to Doyoung’s already throbbing dick, precum leaking out and wetting his boxers. “Were we now?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung said, breath hitching. “We really were.”

Johnny sighed in approval as Doyoung slid his hands under his shirt, fingers dancing up his ribs and over his scars, smoothing down his back, searching, seeking, scratching.

“It’s been a while.”

Doyoung laughed, breathless, drunk off of Johnny’s presence, his kisses, his touches, the way he was rolling his hips in hard circles, rough in the way he knew Doyoung could take. In the way he knew Doyoung liked.

“It really has.”

  
  
  
  
  


At some point in the frantic mess of horny desperation they’d become, Johnny manoeuvered them over to the sinks, turning Doyoung so he was facing the mirrors.

“Want you to watch,” he sighed against his skin, sucking a hickey into the back of Doyoung’s neck high enough that there’d be no way to hide it. “You okay with that?”

Doyoung keened high in his throat, a noise that would’ve been embarrassing if it wasn’t Johnny, who took active pleasure in seeing Doyoung fall apart. He nodded, head dropping forward and hands coming up to brace against the edge of the sink.

Johnny smiled, the action felt more than seen, blanketing Doyoung chest to back, hips pressed up against Doyoung’s ass. One large hand came around to tilt Doyoung’s chin up, gazes meeting through the mirror. Johnny’s eyes were hooded, a dark hunger swirling in them, lips red and swollen. Doyoung didn’t look much better, eyes blown out and glazed over, cheeks pink and mouth pinker.

“Wanted you to see how pretty you are like this,” Johnny told him, lips grazing his ear. “How perfect you are.”

A broken sound escaped Doyoung’s lips, hips grinding back, tattoos stretching across his skin with every heave of his chest. “I hate you,” he panted, blood rushing south painfully fast at how Johnny was shoving down his jeans and boxer briefs, “I can’t believe I’m letting you fuck me in some dirty bathroom.”

Johnny griped one of Doyoung’s ass cheeks and squeezed, spreading him with a content sigh. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

“You better make it up to me  _ now _ ,” Doyoung grumbled, gasping when a dry finger passed over his rim. “ _ Fuck _ .”

“Mhm.” Johnny must’ve pushed his own jeans and underwear down at some point, because when he pressed his hips forward again there was the drag of skin on skin. “That’s the idea.”

Things escalated quickly, from that point.

Johnny stretched Doyoung with lube from a packet he’d had tucked away in his back pocket.

“Do I-  _ ah! _ \- want to know- hah- why you have that?” Doyoung panted, head hanging as Johnny slowly thrusted two, then three, fingers into him, just missing his sweet spot every time because he was a fucking tease like that.

“I’m not seeing anyone but you, sweetheart,” Johnny told him, thrusting unconsciously against Doyoung’s ass, smearing precum along the skin there. “Have no interest in even trying.”

“Good to know,” Doyoung gasped. Johnny pressed a kiss to his shoulder, pulling his fingers out with an unappealing squelch. Distantly, someone banged on a door. Behind him Johnny positioned himself. “Is that-” Doyoung choked on a high keen, Johnny pressing the head of his dick against Doyoung’s rim, pushing in just enough to have Doyoung’s blood pounding in his ears. “Is someone- ngh- knocking?”

“Ignore it,” Johnny grunted through clenched teeth, focus on the way his dick was slowly disappearing into Doyoung’s body, being swallowed by the tight, tight heat.

Doyoung didn’t get the chance to think about it much more, because once Johnny was all the way in — both of them breathing heavy, skin flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat — he started to  _ move _ .

It felt like the air was getting punched out of his lungs with every thrust. Doyoung had to press a hand against the mirror to keep himself from being shoved forward, eyes drifting up to the sight of his reflection unbidden.

He got why Johnny wanted him here, where he could easily see himself. He looked debauched, hiccuping on every thrust, mouth hanging open, panting heavily. His cheeks were a pretty pink, his eyes impossibly dark, and on top of all that there was Johnny. God, there was Johnny. Watching Johnny while they fucked was a personal favorite of Doyoung’s (a kink he hadn’t discovered until after the first few times they’d slept together) because it was one of the only times the warlock let all his defenses down, laid entirely bare for Doyoung to see and touch.

But watching Johnny fuck him in the reflection, brows furrowed in pleasure, mouth parted from his own heavy breathing, was a whole other experience.

The slide of Johnny’s dick inside him, pressing on his walls, hips slapping against his ass hard enough to bruise was already intense. Seeing it all happen in the way Doyoung jerked forward rhythmically, his own untouched dick slapping against the sink edge, red and aching as it dribbled precum down its length, had pleasure singing through his veins. It had the pleasure already building and coiling in his gut reaching all the way down to his toes, tightening his muscles. It had his back arching for more, more, more, grinding back to take Johnny deeper, watching the way his shirt hung and swayed, rucked up along his shoulders so Johnny could run a hand down the line of his spine. It had him moaning, long and loud, his voice ringing out clear against the bathroom walls.

“ _ Johnny _ ,” he whined, high in his throat. Arousal was burning at the base of his spine, the way Johnny felt in him, around him, setting his sense alight. “ _ Please _ .”

Johnny’s grip on his hips tightened, the pain of his hold barely registering in the haze fogging up Doyoung’s thoughts. He reached one hand around to wrap around Doyoung’s dick, smoothing over the head and stroking down in a way that had stars exploding along the edges of Doyoung’s vision.

“I’ve got you,” he panted, thrusting deep and hard in counterpoint to the way he was pulling Doyoung back. He shifted his angle just a hair and had Doyoung crying out, eyes squeezing shut as the coil in his gut tightened almost to breaking. “I’ve got you.”

Doyoung was so close. The pleasurable burn of Johnny’s cock thrusting into him, stretching his rim, the hand stroking in tandem with the thrusts, the sight of himself in the mirror, Johnny behind him, head curled forward as he sought his own peak. It was almost more than he could handle, Doyoung realizing he’d been holding his breath without meaning to.

He sucked in a sharp breath, air rushing to his lungs. Relief swept through his body like a tidal wave, and before he knew it he was tensing, muscles going tight, the winding coil of arousal finally snapping. Doyoung gasped, coming hard over Johnny’s fist, his hold on the sink going white-knuckled. He pushed himself back as best he could, letting the feeling of being fucked ride out the rest of his orgasm until he was creeping into over-sensitivity.

He hiccuped out a small whine, dropping his head.

“I know,” Johnny moaned. He kissed up Doyoung’s back, pressing his forehead between Doyoung’s shoulder blades, thrusts turning erratic. “Just a little more. Bear with me, baby.”

Three, four more thrusts and then Johnny was coming too, filling Doyoung up. He groaned, grinding against Doyoung’s ass, buried deep, coming to a gradual stop.

He draped himself over Doyoung’s back, sighing into the back of his neck, letting Doyoung hold up most of their combined weight.

“That was good,” he mumbled, nuzzling close. “We should do this more often.”

“What?” Doyoung asked, body buzzing with a post-orgasm warmth. “Go a week without fucking, or fuck in semi-public spaces?”

“I was thinking fuck in front of a mirror,” Johnny chuckled, jostling both their bodies, drawing a small gasp from Doyoung when the motion shifted Johnny’s dick where it was still inside him, “but all of those work too.”

Doyoung made a mild noise of complaint, reaching back to push Johnny away so they could attempt to clean up.

“You’re a menace.”

Johnny grinned at him, cheeky and fearless and very smitten. “You don’t like me any less for it.”

Doyoung sighed, standing up on his toes to give Johnny a gentle peck at the corner of his lips. “No. Guess I don’t.”

  
  
  
  
  


Ten doesn’t stop saying ‘I knew it’ for a month.

Doyoung’s hickeys don’t fade for two weeks, renewed by an emboldened Johnny — “Your friends know now, so why can’t I?”

All in all, life moves on.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, comments, kudos, and bookmarks are always appreciated! They make an author's day. Also, if you'd like to talk (scream) about the boys, or this au, feel free to find me on twitter [@nu_exooo!](https://twitter.com/nu_exooo)


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